


A War Worth Fighting

by Anonymous



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Angst, Bottom Killua Zoldyck, Fantasy, Fluff, Gonkillu - Freeform, Killugon - Freeform, M/M, Romance, Savannah Rea, Slow Burn, Smut, Top Gon Freecs, Wow, mature - Freeform, minor OCs - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:42:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 49,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24440776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: A world war takes place. Killua, a lonesome mage, makes a deal with an adventure-seeking druid, Gon. Together they face endeavors of survival, betrayal, and trust. Falling in love made it all the more difficult, but somehow, someway, they figure it out.(Killugon/ Gonkillu)**Fantasy**
Relationships: Gon Freecs & Killua Zoldyck, Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck
Comments: 82
Kudos: 150
Collections: anonymous





	1. One Agreement and A Lifetime of Adventure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With a journey comes a price, but with the price comes more.
> 
> A world war takes place. Killua, a lonesome mage, makes a deal with an adventure-seeking druid, Gon. Together they face endeavors of survival, betrayal, and trust. Falling in love made it all the more difficult, but somehow, someway, they figure it out.
> 
> (Killugon/ Gonkillu)  
> **Fantasy**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Making some edits along the way. Sorry, I might not post a new chapter this week because I'm focusing more on editing. My next update will probably be A Life Foretold. Thank you so much for your patience! <33

Life sucks.

Sucks ass, balls, dick, and he could go on, but he'd rather not.

Killua came to that conclusion many times. But this time, the goddesses decided to assassinate him with a bird the size of a pelican, which should've been nothing. He fought in countless wars, assissated higher ups across the planet, birds aren't the problem here. 

The problem: his pouch filled with numerous explosive crystals.

Before he could process what happened, his ass exploded out of the tree and landed in some-sort of glowing well. He spit some of the liquid that leaked in the crevices of his mouth, the bitter taste everlasting on his tongue.

He left his family years ago...well, he left the property. There's no telling if it's possible to permanently leave. He could leave for one year, come back the next, or even never return. Regardless, he knew he remained in shackles and chains trailing behind every path he chose. Leaving the Zoldycks? Yeah right. He wouldn't be in this situation now if he truly left his past behind. 

He sighed. Mission failed. Most of the malerite he collected ignited with the fall. How would he pay for food now? It's not like he can keep slinking past borders. The Northern Kingdoms is a contested territory, he wouldn't want his careless actions to change that. Solve fighting, not through assassination, not through more killing unless absolutely necessary, and not through _money_. Yet here he was, indirectly complying with his family's wanting by selling a powerful stone and collecting it from enemy territories. 

Leaving the Zoldycks? Impossible. You can walk out any time, but you can never leave. 

His ears perked when a rustle of leaves sounded from his right. He needs to get out of here as soon as possible.

"That's not something you see every day." Pointed ears and ebony hair peeked from a pinkish bush. 

_Shit_.

The forest elf now fully revealed himself, a smirk lacing his lips.

The mage instantly searched for malevolence, suspicion, anything that supported his hypothesis of instant death.

The stranger displayed no signs of hostility, "Is everything okay?" He voiced out in concern with an undertone of amusement, which Killua immediately labeled as mockery.

What. Out of every possible word in the two languages Killua's fluent in, 'okay' successfully described the exact opposite of reality. "What type of stupid question is that? Everything is terrible!" He exclaimed, and to make matters worse, the bird-that-appeared-from-nowhere swan dived, aiming for Killua's head, and cawing obnoxiously. Killua knew better than to kill the thing on the spot. Forest elves weren't a hostile species to visitors, but if an idiot does something harmful to nature, that will quickly change and not in a pleasant way, to say the least. It was bad enough that one of them caught him trying to take a fragment of malerite.

The stranger held his arms out for the creature to land on, in which the beast obliged.

Killua's muscles felt weak, each movement in strain. Great, he's completely out of energy. His dead body is going to be sent back to Podokia with bird feathers and burnt marks on the clothing scraps near his ass. Killua glanced at his surroundings. He never would've begun to imagine that somewhere so beautiful existed. The sky shaded violet with a pink undertone. Overgrowth almost looked purposeful as vines perfectly swirled around branches with white flowers dappled across the forest floor. 'Tis a fine place to die, Killua thought to himself.

"Do you need any healing?"

Killua looked up, astonished, "So you aren't going to kill me? You know what I am, don't you?"

He shrugged, "Does that matter?"

Yeah, okay, this guy is the epitome of weird, the epiphany of psychotic, and the personification of Darwinism. Killua squinted his eyes to attempt to identify this creature of incomprehension. His hair shaded dark green, almost black, his skin smoothly tanned, and his glowing, golden eyes would catch the attention of anyone within a half-mile radius. Killua was told elves evolved from trolls, but to hell with that. This guy had the body of a human who dedicated their life to exercise. Attractive, and Killua could appreciate that.

The forest elf before him seemed to be no bother, but if he gets caught by another enemy, he's either going to get killed by his family or Palm. Killua shivered. There weren't many situations that could worsen from there.

"You're a northern elf, right?"

Killua grumbled, "No shit, dude, now can you get that creature out of here. Its gaze is enough for me never to want to eat chicken again."

The forest elf ruffled the bird's feathers and jumped up the tree. Killua doesn't think he's ever seen anyone climb a tree that fast—hell, he wouldn't even consider that climbing and that greatly concerned him. " _Stay clear of forest elves. Their agility can be proven fatal if careless._ " His brother had always told him. And that made him wonder, concurrently checking that the crystal was stabilized to prevent another _bothersome_ explosion, _What superstitions is this guy plotting with?_

Suddenly, a gust of wind swirled leaves all around Killua's body.

Magic. _Restoration Magic_.

The green essence that lifted the autumn colored leaves. His wounds were mending at a leisurely pace. It must be that elf's magic. Everything started to add up: his speed of tree climbing, strong associations with nature, his abilities to heal, the leaf green essence: He's a druid.

_Frightening._

Killua needed to get out of here _fast_. Druids stopped showing up once immortality was taken from the forest elves years ago. Many years ago. Blame Killua's species for that, but here one is, with eyes glowing golden, too, as if this situation wasn't dangerous enough. Shivers pierced his spine, body running ice-cold. He grew suddenly aware of the water soaking into his clothing akin to blood staining pure cloth. Escape, escape, escape-- _where is the nearest escape?!_

Killua bristled from fright as Gon appeared from a nearby bush, "How'd you even get here? Why are you collecting malerite here?"

Killua snorted. Is this guy an idiot?--a rhetorical question, "As if I'd tell you that. Now let me get out of here. I have work to do." Feigning indifference, the false facade of confidence in his abilities that he resorted to in dire situations of cluelessness.

"Let's see. You came into the thicket without any animal or vehicle of transportation. You obviously don't know a thing about moondust hawks, and you somehow managed to sneak past the sentinels without knowing a thing about the geography of this place with a bag full of malerite. I'm guessing you're a mage. An arcane at that."

Shit, this guy hammered the nail right on the head. If he opened up a portal now, he would risk the druid going through it as well. Even when he leaves, it takes a solid three minutes for the portal to close, and that's if he's lucky. Judging the curiosity of this idiot, he'd follow him through the portal without a second thought. Killua raised his hands to indicate surrender, "Fine, you win. What do you want? Information? The Malerite?"

"Oh, I don't care about that."

The mage sneered, "Then what do you want?" he got in a defensive stance as the stranger got closer.

"My name is Gon, and all I want is to explore. You see, I've been on this island my entire life." He narrowed his eyes, "I've never been to the northern kingdoms before, and you can create portals."

And back to his earlier mention of Gon being the symbol of Darwinism--yet still alive. Appearance alone would give him away. Sure, the guards aren't that strong, but having ten or more attacking at once could do a huge number. "Are you implying that you want me to let you into my people's land? You'd get killed on the spot."

"I know where a cave full of malerite is. No guards. Free to harvest."

Killua's ears perked up and a cat-like grin curled his lips at the favored word, 'malerite' and 'free to harvest'. And he now believed in pure-fucking paradise. "Isn't that betraying your people?" he spurred.

"Oh, no. They could care less about the world war. If anything, we just want to get out of it and mind our own business." something glimmered in Gon's eyes, "But I disagree. I want to participate, and the only way to do that is by finding some form of transportation that can't be traced. Northerners haven't picked a side of the war. They only defend themselves by having skillful spell casters that use malerite as an enhancement. The supply of the crystal is sure to be lowering on that single continent by now. Am I right?"

This whole situation made Killua _very_ uncomfortable. "Fine. How many portals? My max is three."

Gon shrugged, "Whichever one you're taking."

"No way."

"I don't have a time limit of invisibility. I won't get caught."

"Ugh, fine! How long do you plan on stalking me?"

"One month." Gon held his hand out.

One month for Gon, who was admittedly hot, following him around in exchange for a lifetime supply of malerite. Was Killua going to accept this offer? _Fuck yes._

He shook Gon's hand. "Deal."


	2. Realizing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Because some things are worth fighting for.”

Beneath, beneath the forsaken willow tree,

Their blood stained red across the tainted roots,

The wind cried out in pain,

Embers drifted along the broken shore,

Why this? Why this? Why kill all innocents? Is life your enemy?

Beneath, beneath the forsaken willow tree,

Beware, of the western queen.

Gon hummed the nursery rhyme. He heard the old voice warning him, lingering as a gentle reminder of Gon's purpose: to fight for peace and not wait for it.

From birth, his eyes beamed golden, a sign of a prosperous future. This couldn't have been mistaken. Gon was destined to journey astray and discover the correct path. For the sake of his people, for the sake of his fallen aunt, and for the sake of himself.

Gon waited centuries for a golden opportunity such as this one. He had to follow his intuition and travel across kingdoms, meet new species, and learn the truth behind everything. Doing nothing to bring peace didn't work before, so why would it work now? If his people were going to do nothing of the massacre, then he is.

And that led him to the most beautiful mage Gon had ever encountered. His eyes shimmered blue, and his hair was blindingly white with streaks of silver. Violet magic glimmered around the mage's porcelain skin like dust swirling in the ocean breeze. Gon was awestruck in the presence of the northerner.

Gon's breath hitched as they shook hands. His skin was as cold as ice but as soft as snow.

"Deal." The mage confirmed with a smirk on his face, lugging the sack of malerite on his bare shoulder.

Gon always imagined mages, especially northerners, to wear robes. They typically weren't athletic and specialized in ranged battles, but this guy was different. He was basically topless with a vest clinging to his shoulders, and this mage was definitely athletic. The firm outline of muscle clarified that much.

The mage's melodic voice arose, "I'm Killua. Since we're going to be stuck together from now on, I thought you should at least know that much, but that's all you're going to get to know about me." Killua plopped the sack down and brushed his vest off, turning to Gon with an icy glare, "We're acquaintances, nothing more."

Gon shivered. He knew better than to be pushy; he could not afford to underestimate this individual.

Killua grabbed a quarter size of malerite, whispering something softly. Suddenly, glowing purple dust blew like a powerful gust of wind around Killua's figure. His hair puffed out, and a blueish purple essence began surrounding him. Gon watched in awe. The scent of malerite was as sugar, and the distinctive colors contrasted beautifully with Killua's body. Gon noticed how the northerner seemed to get juristically stronger with just that tiny fragment of the precious stone.

This has the potential to change everything.

"I can only open portals in particular places where the rifts are weak. You think you can sneak past numerous guards?" the mage turned to Gon with a mischievous grin.

"If I die, then I can't show you the cave of malerite," Gon smirked, "Now could I?"

Just like that, the grin wiped right off of Killua's face, "Fine." He grumbled, "I know another place to teleport, but I swear to god if you die, I'll kick your ass in hell."

Gon laughed, "Okay, sure."

"You mentioned how you mastered invisibility. That's a tough one," Gon watched as Killua ran his slender fingers through his soft white locks, "but my people know how to detect that. You can't rely on it."

Killua began turning his wrists in circles, magic brushing against his pale fingertips. It was hypnotic. It looked like a tear in the air. A small band began widening to about six feet tall. Through it, you could see a snowy biome with a pale blue sky. It was like venturing into a whole different world.

The sound of Killua clearing his throat snapped Gon out of his current haze, "Be careful stepping through. A simple tap of the foot to the rim and it could be severed instantly."

There a rush of excitement coursing through Gon's body. Finally, he could participate in the war—avenge the loss of the world tree and all the forest elves that died protecting it. He would find a way to bring it back and restore the gift of immortality so families could be happy once more and live in peace amongst nature. He needed to eradicate the leaders of the western kingdoms and end this everlasting corruption.

Slowly but surely, Gon followed Killua through the portal.

Icy wind crashed like needles on Gon's face. He squinted his eyes, trying to see through the blinding blizzard. He made sure to place his feet in the trail Killua made in front, snow reaching ankle-deep. So this is the northern kingdoms.

Killua threw back his hood, turning around with a bemused smile, "Welcome to Padokea. It's pretty much like this year-round, so get used to it."

Gon began to wonder how Killua was even alive with such little clothing as protection against the cold. Any normal being would die of hyperthermia. Yeah, no. If Gon was going to survive a second here, he's going to have to shapeshift. He generally hid his specification. Druids were slaughtered along with the world tree years ago. There were survivors, but not many.

He took deep breaths and stood as still as possible; his body morphing into the physical frame of a bear: his eyes a rapturous golden and ragged brown fur coating his body.

Killua jumped back a good seven meters, his hair spiking out. "Shit, Gon, Don't do that!" He ran fingers through his hair as if trying to calm it down, "God,"

"Sorry, Killua, but I'm going to be a bear until I get decent clothing for this weather."

Killua rolled his eyes, "Can't you be something, I don't know, less deadly. You can't go into town as a bear, idiot."

"I don't have any money either-"

Killua's grew agitated, hair prickling, "How stupid can you be?! You can't just expect to hop into a world war that's been lasting at least a century without some form of a plan, let alone broke!"

"I have a plan," Gon argued defensively,

Killua cocked an eyebrow, "Oh, yeah. I think I can guess the rest. You expect to rely completely on instinct, thinking the gift from the goddesses of golden eyes will protect you, somehow thinking that you can bring peace by negotiating despite knowing no information about why this war is even occurring. " He sighed knowingly, "You're a druid, so I'm guessing you're upset about the burning of the world tree and trying to solve the issue all by yourself since your people want nothing to do with the war, yet still trying to abide by their customs."

Gon was speechless, "I...uh-"

"Thought so."

Gon furrowed his eyebrows, "Okay. Well, can you get me some decent clothing?"

Killua looked at the shivering Gon, his gaze sympathizing a bit, "I can run into town and get you a fur cloak. I know someone that makes them with excellent protection against wind damage."

"You want me to stay here!" Gon whined,

"Just use invisibility, you said it was unlimited." Killua eyes him expectantly.

"Well-uh. I have to be completely still for that."

Killua smacked a palm against his forehead. "You're on your own, buddy."

"Killuaaaaa, I thought we were friends."

Killua seemed to visibly tense at that. His shoulders slouched, arms finding their way into his jean's pockets. He hushed out through gritted teeth, "We aren't friends."

Gon shivered as Killua walked away, intimidating.

It looks like Gon is going to be on his own through this journey. He somewhat hoped he would have the beautiful boy by his side, but he had to respect Killua's wishes. His aunt had taught him that you couldn't get to know somebody without knowing what makes them angry, but just now, Killua was trying to distance himself because of fear, not anger. Just what was he so afraid of?

Hours passed.

Gon wishes he could say he adapted to the cold. Alas, that would be a lie. His paws felt like they've barricaded in ice. Part of him worried that Killua left him behind for good. His friends continuously mention that Gon was too naive in trusting others; his instinct had yet to fail him, and deep down, he knew Killua would return.

Snow compiling, howling wind, and the ground slippery with ice. Gon squinted his eyes at the blurry figure in the distance. His eyelids were so heavy. No, he mustn't pass out here. In this weather, without the thick fur coat could mean death.

Gon ran out of energy, transforming back into his original form. His body frozen in shock, his eyelids weighing thousands of pounds.

"Gon!" The sound disappearing in the wind.

That voice sounds familiar. He reached his hand out, trying to grasp it. Gon's entire world was spinning, and before he knew it, blackness took over.

~*~

Gon blinked back into consciousness. Soft linens beneath him, flickering candlelight, and sounds of murmuring from the other room. His nostrils whiffed the smells of cooking. It felt like the home that died years ago. Where am I?

"Finally, you're awake."

Gon jolted his head to find Killua sitting in a chair across the room, inspecting the fragments of malerite, wearing a dark blue turtleneck. His sharp eyes looked Gon steadily in the eye. "You could've died. Even morons know the northern kingdoms are freezing. You almost got frostbite on your ankles."

Gon was more focused on the setting rather than Killua's lecture. He seemed to be in a log cabin. The wooden bed creaked at the subtlest movement and the rough floor so warm against the pads of his feet. He stretched all the cricks in his body, turning to Killua's speculative figure. "Thank you, Killua."

Killua's glowing white hair fluffed out as his cheeks painted pink, ethereal against his porcelain skin. Gon wondered if all northerners were this pretty.

"Big brother! Did Gon wake up?" A younger girl slammed the door open. Her skin as light as powdered snow with eyes the shade of icicles, hair as black as the night sky, weaved in a long braid, pins like snowflakes intertwined. Her pink dress draped off her shoulders, embroidered cherry blossoms decorating the luscious fabric.

This only served to strengthen Gon's hypothesis: Northerners are beautiful.

The girl walked closer to Gon, her hand outstretched in a greeting manner. "Nice to meet you, Gon. I'm Alluka, Killua's younger sister."

Gon heard Killua huff beside him.

They shook hands. Alluka's palms not quite as cold as Killua's but soft, almost delicate. Lingering curiosity caused Gon to speak up, "Where am I?"

Killua stood up, placing the crystal aside and shoving his hands in the pockets of his pants. "You passed out. I took you home with me so you wouldn't die. You've been asleep for two days." He pointed to his sister with exasperation, "Alluka insisted that I didn't kick your ass out, so I guess you can stay here temporarily."

"I made dinner." Alluka genuinely smiled, "Feel free to join us."

"Of course, thank you!"

The cabin was a medium size. Cozy. Just being in the environment lifted a massive weight off of Gon's chest. Candles stationed in various areas around the cabin, wooden flooring covered by fluffy white carpet. Smells of incense and home-style cooking and the burning of wood in the fireplace. It gave Gon a melancholy feeling because this is what his people lost. A home.

They situated at the dining table. A spectacular feast prepared like Aunt Mito was right here with him. It didn't go unnoticed how Killua was watching him suspiciously like his eyes were taking pictures of Gon's every move only to use it as evidence against Gon whenever convicted for a crime.

Finally, Killua spoke, "We're heading the human capital tomorrow."

Gon's ears pointed up, "York New City?"

"Yeah, I'm going to auction off some of the malerite."

"Your country doesn't need it?"

Killua rolled his eyes, "We're entitled to do whatever we want with the malerite. Since they haven't chosen a side in the war, it doesn't matter to which faction we associate with. A world where you fend for yourself."

' A world where you can't rely on others' were Killua's unspoken words.

Alluka sat up, her smile brightening the grim atmosphere, "Anyways, we should rest up." She looked over to Gon, her eyes glimmering with mischief that is often found in Killua's gaze. It must be genetic. "You're sleeping in brother's room. Sorry, but no boys allowed in my room."

Killua didn't look very happy with his sister's opinion, and Gon began to wonder if he was going to live to see tomorrow by the dangerous look in those icy blue orbs.

Once headed in the room, Killua grabbed sheets from the closet, "You're sleeping on the floor,"

"What? But I'm your guest," Gon pouted childishly,

"Don't care."

Killua pretended to be mean, but Gon could see through his facade. Killua didn't have to bring him to his house to keep him alive. Heck, he could've thrown him in a portal back to Gon's homeland, but Killua cared. He cared for others.

Gon crawled under the quilts, the fabric brushing softly against his shivering skin. Killua blew out the bedside candle, Gon now faced with darkness and minimal light shining through the window beside Killua's bed. The stars twinkled brightly, Gon staring at them with awe-filled eyes. Colors spiraling like distant dust of a galaxy, yet the moon seemed so far. The moon meant everything to his people. It gave hope—the path of light when everything else was dark, always there, and always beautiful. When walking across the Broken Shore, there was the moon, touching the water's surface and reflecting across the raging ocean.

"Why do you fight?" A whisper arose, delicate, and seemingly vulnerable.

Gon turned his eyes towards Killua's figure—a tightness forming in his chest when noticing the glow of his pale skin and the beauty of his white hair, somewhat reminding Gon of the fur coat of an arctic fox. He snapped out of his entrancement once processing the lingering question. "To achieve my goal."

Suddenly, their gaze locked. A breath sucked out Gon. Killua's sapphire eyes shimmering, and bits of silver sparkling in the moonlight. Emotion-filled: subtly inquisitive, fading mischief, but a gnawing sadness. Gon wanted to ask more. His curiosity begging to know more like his life depended on it. "Why do you fight?"

A long silence. Gon looked at Killua's expectantly, who drew in a breath and rolled over, facing his back towards Gon, "Because some things are worth fighting for."

~*~

The sunlight was blinding, and the heat scorching. Townsfolk carried loads of supply on their shoulders, children ran the canals, and marketman hollered from their stands. One kid tripped on his knees, landing with an oof. Gon's eyes widened as he helped the younger up. The kid's face was smudged with dirt, and his big brown eyes widened, "Whoa, I've never seen a forest elf before!" A big smile plastered on his face, "My name is Kaiden, mister."

Gon smiled and shook the tiny hand. Seldom there children where he grew up. Seemingly forever, forest elves relied on immortality. Procreating was unnecessary. Gon saught it as a loss of happiness because children with their bright-eyed innocence are a blessing no matter the species.

A man appeared, calling Kaiden by his name and ruffling his head of hair. He wore tiny circle glasses and a blue business suit. His voice carrying kindness and honesty, "Kaiden, you shouldn't run off like that."

"But Dad. I found the elf you were supposed to meet with."

"A northern elf, not a forest elf."

Kaiden scratched his head, confused. Gon felt the same way. It didn't help that he lost Killua in the crowd.

"Gon!" Killua emerged, hurling the sack of malerite on his shoulder, "I see you found Leorio."

That's Leorio?

"Hey, it's Killua! Did you bring the supplies?" Leorio shuffled through his wallet, pulling out copper and silver coins.

"Yeah, now pay up."

"Tch, you can be such a brat. Kaiden, never act like Killua here."

Killua rolled his eyes. "Make sure to bring it to the king. It's sure to help the Alliance." A sudden softness appeared in Killua's face, smiling towards Kaiden with his hand out, "Who's this?"

Leorio spoke up, "He's an orphan and didn't have any place to go, so I adopted him. Now we're a family." His eyes were shining with pride.

"Yup! I want to be a paladin just like Dad and heal people so they can come back to their families safe!"

Killua smiled and patted Kaiden's scruffy bronze hair. And all the while, Gon couldn't help but stare. Killua's question echoing in his mind, 'Why do you fight?'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment your thoughts <33 
> 
> Thanks for reading this far


	3. Just Maybe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There are some things that not even time can erase."

Along with Gon came new experiences. Everyday errands were...exciting, to say the least. Gon was seemingly adjusting to the northern kingdoms—despite when he tried to 'bond' with the wildlife, getting attacked by a foray of snowsabers in return. Oh, and when Gon attempted to jumpscare Killua. The bald spot of burnt hair surely taught him a valuable lesson. But you can't always blame inexperience. Some are just simply idiots, and Gon happens to be the idiot of the century—nominated by Killua.

  
There were numerous events Killua could depict as evidence of his declaration, but one stood out in particular. They were roaming York New City when Gon came across a dairy farmer with a sign advertising reduced-fat milk. Gon turned to Killua, perplexed, "Why would they sell something that's only two-percent milk and still call it milk? What's the other ninety-eight percent?"

  
Killua didn't even bother to explain. Some are beyond help.

  
As promised, Gon led Killua to the cave of malerite. Here is what Gon failed to mention: In that cave lived one of the most dangerous creatures known to man. Stupidly, Gon's loud voice echoed the cave after unnecessarily yelling, "We're here!" with a toothy grin. That, of course, woke up the beast, Gon's smile dropping to a dreaded wince, and Killua smacking him across the head before teleporting to the entrance within an instant. He couldn't contain a snicker when hearing a screaming Gon, along with several noises that sounded painful. In defense of Killua's morality, he wouldn't think of leaving Gon in there if he didn't have faith in his abilities.  
  
And then the cave went silent. _Holy shit, did he actually die?_ , were Killua's thoughts as he activated invisibility and slinked inside the cave in search of Gon. Nowhere to be found. His eyes darted from each corner of the cave, the purple crystals scintillating against the gentle stream of water near the edges of stone-beared walls. Anxiety built with the quietness looming around the cavern, and he did not enjoy the atrocious snarling of the monster or the way it stalked patiently in circles as though awaiting its prey.

  
Killua concluded that Gon, triggered the invisibility technique that the forest elves call 'zetsu,' Killua looking carefully for any signs of debris, footsteps, or even small intakes of air. Cautiously, he stepped closer, closer. Only meters away, mud ingrained the outline of Gon's boot. It must've clung to the bottoms of their shoes when they waded through the river to avoid the attention of following the trail. He blindingly reached forward. All types of invisibility are deactivated when contact is made, so he kept one foot turned towards the exit. His fingers latched onto something, suddenly no longer transparent to their surroundings.

  
A now visible Gon whipped his head towards the direction of the opening, "Run!"  
Idiot.

  
The beast turned its hideous self towards the direction of the deafening noise, and Killua wasted no time in grabbing Gon and speeding the hell out. Finally, his feet touched soil once more, a furious growl of the upset beast shaking the forest floor.

"Killua, can you open a portal?"

  
"Moron, that takes time! Which, thanks to your loud voice, is something we don't have!"

  
Gon seemed to ignore the snippy comment, focusing hard on something that Killua had yet to understand. The mage's eyes widened as Gon's body morphed into an owl-like creature, gray and brown feathers alike. Killua was now looking at an animal that no longer appeared to be Gon but a winged beast the about nine-feet tall. "Uh," which is all he could muster, his brain trying to process: What. Since when could he do that, and why the hell has he not used it sooner?

  
The unsightly animal approached the cave's entrance. Think about Gon later. Killua got in a defensive position, bursts of mana easing to a tranquil river, a thick aura shielding his body. He needed to think, soothe his enraged heart-beat. Breathe in. Breathe out. Rythm echo will buy them time.

  
Talons sank into the flesh of his shoulders. Killua's eyes shot open, feeling his feet no-longer meet the ground, flailing against the crashing, damp wind.

  
"Killua!" A familiar voice erupted from the bird-like creature.

  
Sharp gusts of wind burned his cheeks, hair tugging behind him, and lungs overwhelmed with the tsunami of forced oxygen. "Gon?! What the hell! Put me down!?!" A drop. Rain. Hell no. His writhing intensified. Gon gripped onto his shoulders harder, a painful shock inflicting Killua's body momentarily paralyzed.

  
"Stop wiggling!"

  
"Well, excuse me, but there's a horrendous thunderstorm approaching! Don't tell me 'mister nature elf' didn't notice!" Killua sneered.

  
His stomach dropped when Gon's wings dipped suddenly. "I know of a hollow-"

  
"Does it contain unimaginable horrors?"

  
"No-"

  
"Then, can you hurry?"

  
"I was thinking-"

  
"And...there's lightning in the distance."

  
"Killua's being very difficult."

  
Before Killua could reply snarkily, Gon swan-dived towards the ground.

Either it was from the deep wounds or the petrifying drop, but Killua's could've sworn he blacked out because he finds himself blinking back into awareness with a concerned Gon within very close proximity. Involuntarily, Killua lept, only to bonk on the head with the roof of some tree (?)

  
"Killua!"

  
Killua was more focused on his surroundings rather than a response.

  
The inside of a tree.

  
Pitch dark outside, vines dangling down corners, and large roots towered from the ground. It must be the hollow Gon was speaking of.

  
The pain eased up to a light stinging, no worse than a mere pinch. Killua figured that was Gon's doing. He sat back down peacefully, watching Gon fidget with sticks, assuming to be a fireplace. "It's stupid to make a fire inside of a tree."  
Gon shrugged, "It's a duskwallow tree."

  
Killua shot a 'and?' look at Gon, who smiled a bit and continued stacking various twigs. Finally, he responded, "Duskwallow trees are fireproof."

  
Killua's eyes widened, glancing around the hollow more observantly. Little surprises like this made adventures worthwhile. Exploring— once forced, once hated, but demise dwindling into warmhearted merriment. Sympathizing a bit, Killua assisted, a spark of electricity caught from his fingertips caught fire, wood crackling, and soft embers arising with the placid stream of smoke. Through the quelling flames, he could see Gon's subdued glowing amber eyes. Reflections of orange and yellows highlighted the edges of the other. Then Killua's gaze traveled down, down, down. Gon's compact shoulders, his firm abdomen, it all did confusing things to Killua—the sudden rush of heat, the radical beating of his heart, and the sweat on his palms.

  
And Gon's voice soothing, sincere, "I'm sorry we couldn't get the malerite."

  
"Don't worry about it."

  
"But-"

  
"Gon," Killua couldn't help but notice how easily the name rolled off his tongue. "that's not of most importance here."

  
Gon stopped, his big round eyes now focused solely on Killua. The intensity of the moment seemingly unbreakable until a sharp pang had Killua yelp and put a hand over his wounded shoulder.

  
Startled, Gon took action, "Killua! The healing must've worn off. Let me help."

  
Killua brushed off Gon's out-stretched hand. "I can handle it myself." Getting others involved in his personal problems led to disastrous results. No. He shouldn't even be getting close to Gon like this.  
And just like that, a wall built between them. It was like every other: sturdy, cold, and restricting.

  
Or so he thought.

  
Gon eyes unwavering, his eyebrows furrowed, "Killua said so himself. This is a war," Gon raised his voice. He never raises his voice, "so get serious and accept relying on others!"

  
Killua didn't know what to do, what to think, or how to respond. Deep down, he knew Gon's right, so he said nothing, just a gentle nodding of the head. Gon crawled forward, leaves crunching until he sat directly in front of Killua, his backpack hanging off one shoulder. Heat raced to Killua's cheeks as Gon slowly tore the pieces of clothing off, exposing Killua's torso.

  
The wall crumbled down as Gon placed a solid palm on Killua's wound. A lukewarm feeling had the pain float away, a sigh escaping Killua's lips, echoing the shared space. And then pads of Gon's fingers trailed downwards, scouting the plains of Killua's back. It took everything in him to keep his breath from hitching.

  
"I'm putting ointment for the scratches on your back,"

  
Killua nodded. Wet slick coated Gon's hands, the calloused skin kneading ridges of muscle, shivering under the other when Gon timidly traced old, tattered scars, ghost-like touches, "Does it still hurt?" asked Gon with a hushed voice. There was no reason for either of them to whisper, but it felt right in the fragile moment.

  
Killua whispered back, "I guess there are some things that not even time can erase."

~*~

The clouds continued dumping rain. Killua grouched at the slimy feeling in his shoes. In front of him was Gon striding joyfully, somewhat reminding Killua of an over-enthused tour guide. Killua glowered, "Are you sure you're prepared to kill that beast?" _You're aren't going to try and bond with it or something?_

  
"Uh-huh!"

  
"Oh yeah? Last time you screamed like a little girl." A grin tugged at the corners of Killua's lips.

  
"And you ran away."

  
_That's remotely true_. Killua fluffed out and cursed at himself.

  
They arrived at the cave entrance once again, Killua hustling to Gon and covering his mouth before he made an obnoxious noise. He spoke in a seething whisper, "The rain is sure to mask our scent. I'm going to use invisibility-" Gon's eyes widened, and Killua flinched. No. Worry about that later. "You lure it out of the cave. The further from the malerite, the weaker it gets. I'll attack when it's off-guard. Distract it." He added a quieter remark, "You seem to be good at that."

  
Killua didn't wait for a response, exhaling a sigh and becoming transparent to his surroundings. On instinct, his footsteps patted soundlessly against the forest floor. He crouched, putting a hand on the corner of the wall, peering at the approaching druid. Killua had doubts Gon's capable of killing, but the disturbing aura that engulfed the cavern, his empty gaze, and no-tension visible through his fluid movements. Those doubts quickly disappeared amongst the gushing wind.

  
The beast's fur pickled in fright, growling now only as a defense mechanism. Killua backed away as it inched outside the cave, and all Gon did was simply pace after it. Killua wasted no time in slicing through the air, a poisoned knife in-hand, swiftly sinking the blade into the monster's fur coat. He landed fluidly on both feet, hands dripping scarlet, his right cheek smeared with blood. The beast dropped to the ground, lifeless.

  
He didn't look Gon in the eye. He didn't want to.

The walk back was silent. Gon asked stupid questions to get Killua to respond, but he wouldn't. Negative energy wafted from his body ever since the kill. They both learned something neither knew until now: they're killers.

  
Of course, anyone could kill, quite easily he might add, but Killua's swift chop of a poisonous blade, Gon's unbearable sinister aura, and the empty gaze: emotionless, robotic, and demised. Killua's about to journey into a dangerous forsaken territory in his relationship with Gon, whether they were acquaintances, partners, or even...no. And then there are the unanswered questions that can never be asked. Or, Killua's too afraid to ask, scared to know the answer. It seems like this partnership is destined to be much harder than imagined.

  
Mindlessly, Killua began to open a portal, waiting for Gon to hop in, then soon following. The worse happened. This wasn't the northern kingdoms. No, not at all.

  
"Whoa, where are we?" Gon's bright smile and energetic voice.

  
The wilderness, but not one he's ever seen— The growth of the plants appeared to be monitored, controlled, like a gardener actively trimmed the grass, the bushes, or even the trees. The sky was a beautiful shade of golden, but the searing sun. Killua could already begin to feel a sunburn. However, that wasn't the most alarming part. It was dead silent. No birds, the leaves unwavering, and no animals were scurrying the forest floor.

  
Feeling uneasy, his heart erratic, "Gon, let's go back."

  
"No, let's explore!" Gon ran ahead, his figure blurring in the distance.

  
Killua followed with hesitant steps. The forest ended short, now rolling plains hypnotic to the eye, autumn-colored trees lined in a narrow stone path leading to a city of golden skyscrapers.

  
Wait.

  
A shiver shot up his spine. Everything clicked—the nature's stillness, why everything felt so hot, the city, _shit_.

  
He messed up.

  
"Wait-!" Killua reached his hand out as if that could stop Gon from running into his own doom. Killua bolted after him before thinking. His heart dropped when Gon came into view, red dripping down his neck, passed out in that hands of a blonde elf in possession of chains wrapped tightly around Gon's limp figure. No, no, no!

  
Killua was quick to react. He grabbed a sector of malerite and threw the bag in the nearest inconspicuous bush. He chanted as quickly as his lips would move, tongue tripping, trying to keep up. It took time to power up arcane energy, but that was simply something he didn't have, so he shot up a mana barrier, running towards the enemy with hands signaling an incoming spell.

  
The blonde noticed him quickly. He dropped Gon with a thud and got in a defensive position leaving very few openings.

  
Killua got close enough to strike, feigning the spell and grabbing the razored dagger hidden inside his vest. But to his horror, the enemy dodged it as if he saw it coming the entire time. Killua caught midair, and if weren't for his defensive aura, the blows from the other would've surely knocked him unconscious. Killua landed, but not soon enough. Useless punches exchanged along with occasional kicks, and Killua's confidence of victory lowered with each swing. Inevitably, the blonde pinned Killua to the ground, a small blade poking a hole in the flesh of his neck.

  
"Are you part of the phantom!"

  
What? A guild?

  
Apparently, hesitance is nearly fatal. A kick to the stomach emptied all of today's liquid into the fine grass.

  
"Answer me!"

  
An odd question that made zero sense based on previous events. His older brother taught him that priests are capable of mind control. The blonde had been discrete of showing any signs of his spellification, so he said nothing.

  
A swift chop to the nape and Killua lost consciousness.

~*~

Humid, dim, and slimy. That's what Killua awoke to. He groaned, rubbing the sore spot on his neck while glancing around him. A cell. Great. Now he's locked up in the center of the eastern kingdoms. He glanced to find an oh-so-familiar individual as his new cellmate.

  
Gon's guilty voice arose, "sorry, Killua."

  
Killua huffed and looked away. He's passed out twice within a forty-eight-hour timespan and both times because of Gon being stupid. There's no telling how long they'll be trapped in here. A luminous blue barcode patched on his shoulder. He quickly tried to dispatch a spell, no avail. It probably blocks out spell casting. Gon has a mark too.

  
They're stuck here—Now to address the suffocating awkward tension between them.

  
Through the cracked seams of misplaced bricks, moonlight seeped through. A lonesome candle responsible for all light of the cell. Two ratted cots rested side-by-side, Gon sitting on one, mindlessly twirling his fingers like a little kid not sure how to come clean to his parents for misbehavior.

  
Silence for minute-by-minute and Killua unsure whether to be relieved or terrified. He sat on a loose wooden plank, feeling bare without his usual clothing. The prison probably took extra precaution in taking their clothes for reasons of enchantments, so they stuck Gon and Killua ragged tan clothing. Except Gon's rippling arms tore the stitching apart, and Killua hated how his body heated up at that.

  
"You were an assassin, weren't you?"

  
The silence shattered, and it's too late to pick up the pieces and restore it. Instead, Killua gave Gon a hard stare, who looked up with pure, rational eyes. Apparently, the forest elf saw that as a sign to keep going, "The stealth, the poisoned blade, and fluid motions in close-up combat," a long pause, "All...the scars."

  
Killua winced. The scars are another story. A story that he's not ready to tell. "That's a life I abandoned long ago." There's a pathetic strain in his voice, a lump in his throat. Did he really abandon it? Or is it persisting in every punch, every kick, _every kill?_

  
"Why did you decide to help the Alliance?"

  
Killua filtered his gaze on Gon once again, skeptical for any hint of hostility or suspicious activity, "To bring peace...end the fighting." Even if it's never achieved, at least he fought to end violence. Sometimes, it felt as though that made up for all his wrong-doings of the past.

  
Shuffling noises of Gon laying down on the cot, a hum resonating off the walls, "I guess I'm the opposite."

  
_What?_ Killua raised his eyebrows, confused. He wanted to ask questions, but before he opened his mouth to do so, Gon jolted up, startling Killua. "You were an assassin!" In an enthusiastic voice.

  
Killua hesitated, "Yeah..."

  
"So you can pick locks!"

  
Thank the goddesses there aren't any guards on duty because Gon's less-than-a-whisper voice would've surely caught their attention and got them both in trouble. Killua's displayed no similar excitement, "Idiot. What happens then?" he waved his hand out, indicating their surroundings, "We're underground, and the only stairway leads to some unknown area, most likely where other guards patrol."

  
Gon deflated, fiddling with his thumbs once more. Killua resisted a confusing urge to play with his fingers. Both of them flinched when hearing descending footsteps along with metal clanking the ground: chains, shackles, clack, clack, clack. Killua didn't move, not wanting to show unnecessary hostility that could potentially worsen their fate. The familiar blonde reached view-point, not looking so healthy. Dark circles, sunken-in eyes tinted purple from lack of sleep, his shoulders tense as if held at gun-point. Anyone would think he's (she's?) the one held captive instead of them. He sluggishly unlocked the door, Killua lowered his gaze, heart slowing down rhythmically, and breathing soundless. He observed as the gate inched open little-by-little. Killua slid under swiftly, kicking the blonde's knees to make him fall, twisting his wrists to drop the cuffs and locking him to the cell door. The blonde is unfortunate, Killua glowered, but quite fortunate for him and Gon. "Gon, let's go."

  
The blonde was unfazed, speaking with distant eyes and a croaked voice, "There are guards upstairs,"

  
"We'll take the sewers," Killua seethed venomously.

  
And that's just what they did. Killua kicked down the metal plate and hopped in, Gon following closely behind. The horrible stench shocked his nerves, and he grew more and more irritable by each passing minute from Gon continually whining.

  
"Are we almost there? It smells so terrible I might faint."

  
"For the last time, this is the only way to escape!"

  
Gon groaned, "Can't you make, you know, portals?"

  
"This barcode shit is still attached to us. Unless it fades, we might have to get Alluka to get it off us!" Killua grumbled. This is by far the lowest moment of his life. He's without shoes stepping in who-knows-what, but the smell clearly gave away the answer.

  
"AH! Something touched my leg!" Gon's yell pierced the air, and Killua whipped around. "Oh wait, false alarm. It's just my other leg."

  
_I swear to fucking god_.

  
"Killua...you know there's an opening above us, right?"

  
Killua glanced up, mentally vowing to jump off a cliff when this is all over with. Gon's stupidity is contagious. "How do we get up there?" He asked, mostly to himself, but genius Gon came to the rescue.

  
"Why don't we just jump?"

  
"Ten feet," Killua deadpanned, "Yeah, let's jump ten feet without any spells."

  
"I can do it!"

  
_So positive_. Killua squinted.

  
"Then, I'll grab a branch to help Killua climb up too."

  
Killua stepped out of the way with a quirked eyebrow. Gon crouched, akin to a coiled up slinky, taking flight and, surprisingly, reaching the opening. So he waited patiently, itching to get out of this dump. Gon came into view, plopping a branch down, the shit-water splashing him. He thoroughly considered throwing Gon off a cliff, then jumping off himself, after watching the other fall of course.

  
Killua ran up the branch as fast as his limbs would allow, reaching the top, and frantically clarifying his surroundings: The same place where they got captured. Weird. He shuffled through the bush, thanking the goddesses the sack of malerite remained.

  
"What now?" Asked a filthy Gon, twigs in his hair, and a scab forming near his nape. Killua's eyes traveled down—Gon's sun-kissed bare torso and his defined muscle glimmering in the moonlight. Killua tore his eyes away to avoid an embarrassing remark from Gon, but gods he's hot.

  
Right, Gon asked something, "We run home."

~*~

Almost like a treadmill, it seems as though they've gotten nowhere, running for hours on end and getting nowhere close to York New. They jumped in the river to cleanse the unbearable substance off, but the magic seal remained. A full daylight cycle passed overhead only to be night once more. Hungry, tired, and sore. Lights in the distance and both boys propped up.

  
Gon pumped a fist in the air, excitedly, "A city! Let's trade some malerite for a night at an inn."

  
Killua agreed, both of them dashing, limping with overused muscles. The buildings looked smaller than average as they got closer.

  
Wait.

  
Gon groaned, "A dwarf city!" he fell to his knees in a pained cry, "Why!"

  
Killua snickered, despite nearly crying in despair with his strength and will to live collapsing.

  
Gon sat up, "Actually, as long as there's a fireplace, I don't care if I sleep on the floor."

  
Killua found himself agreeing.

They both arrived at the tavern—A frilly blonde girl welcoming them with a fake high-pitched voice. "Welcome! I'm Bisky, and how may I help you gentleman today?"

  
Killua rolled his eyes, "Do you have any bedrooms our size?" His head nearly banged against the roof. Gon nodded vigorously to emphasize his point, and Killua didn't like how all the visitors in the lobby eye-balled Gon's figure, practically drooling.

  
"We have one room in the back, but that depends on what you have in return."

  
Killua plopped a handful of malerite on the table. He could practically see Bisky's eyes double in size, "yes, yes, of course, follow me."

  
Expectation: Nice room, a fireplace, a bathroom, and two-beds with comfy quilts.

  
Reality: Nice room, a fireplace, a bathroom, but ONE BED. Hell no.

  
Bisky slammed the door with a hum, leaving just Gon and Killua. By themselves. With one bed. Being the idiot he is, Gon didn't care. He just strode over to the bed and plopped down happily. But Killua wasn't having any of it, "You're sleeping on the floor."

  
Gon scrambled up, a whine, "Whaaaaa?"

  
"I'm not sharing a bed with you."

  
"Why not?" Gon appeared almost offended.

  
"For god's sake! Your pants are so tight that I can see the distinct outline of your..." Killua trailed off, not really wanting to finish his sentence.

  
"I'm not sleeping on the floor."

  
"You said you would be fine sleeping on the floor!"

  
"I meant only if there wasn't an available bed!"

  
Gon's too damn stubborn to comply. So where did Killua end up that night? In the bed with a passed out Gon, who's snoring away with a firm arm gripped around his waist. So embarrassing.

  
It's near freezing outside, but Killua felt hot all over, especially the spots that lingered with Gon's burning touch. Rough skin colliding with his sparking goose-bumps. A shiver rippled down his spine. The confusing part is, Killua couldn't bring himself to push Gon off, he couldn't help but ease into Gon, a sigh of contentment at the body of warmth, the thin fabric of his shirt hiding no pressure as Gon snored, his abdomen rubbing against Killua's lower back. It felt so, so good.

  
Maybe, just maybe, it's okay to get close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for the encouraging comments <33


	4. Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Sometimes even the kindest are fearest most"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for switching POVs to Alluka. (It'll only happen this one chapter) But I wanted to use her for plot progression so this chap still is important >:3

  


Alluka is a professional when it comes to waiting, adapted to every tick in the clock. Tick, tick, tick. Locked up, each sound echoing to a fade, and the dark. Imprisoned for four hundred years, but it didn't feel like detention. It's just life. Family meant nothing to her. They were blinded by power, jailed by their own morality, life practically meaningless, and then there's Killua. The only relative to truly live.

Alluka remembers when she was only three feet tall. Servants would come and go, always emotionless and rule-abiding. There was one, her name unique: Mito. Alluka remembers the first time seeing her, silky pinkish hair, skin dark as a foreigner, and her eyes twinkled like stars themselves. And her expression, neither distant nor cold, but welcoming. An elf? Typically, butlers were human—always with dead, sunken-in eyes. But Mito was beautiful, and Alluka hardly refrained from running up to her and feeling the foreign cloth of her clothing, or desperately asking questions, needing to know if there's something more out there, something different to discover.

"Nice to meet you, Alluka." Even her voice was warm.

"Hello." She replied timidly, twirling the ends of her hair with the pads of her fingers. "Oh," she stepped aside, revealing a shadow-like clone of her that would only sometimes appear. "This is Nanika. She's my best friend." Alluka paused, never before did she care about learning the servants' names, but a newfound curiosity clawed at her, so strong that it was the only thought on her mind. "What's your name?"

"I'm Mito."

She giggled, "That's a strange name."

The beautiful woman hummed, "Where I'm from, it's quite ordinary." She smiled, "You remind me of a little one I take care of."

 _A story_. Stories were a way to pass the time. They are inspiring, impactful, and sometimes even plagued the mind; Alluka didn't care about that. Alluka plopped on her pillow, crossing her legs, intrigued. Nanika spoke, her dialect broken, "flowers pretty," she pointed at the small plants woven in Mito's strawberry locks.

After that, she came back every day, never absent, and always a different flower in hand that she would later weave into Alluka and Nanika's hair. Netherroses, daisies, snoworquids, and her favorite: Moonlilies—the flowers with white petals as brilliant as her brother, Killua's, hair. The vines tangled blue, like the sapphire gleam in her brother's eyes. And lastly, a flower so lonely, always standing alone, tugged with the gentle breeze and forced to hide with the forceful compiling snow.

Perhaps, she found a friend, something she always wanted but never thought it was something she needed. Possibly, Alluka had something to look forward to with each passing day. She now had memories the guide her forward. Maybe, she didn't deserve this. "Mito?" The other gently tugged at her strands of hair, fabricating a flower crown out of the moonlilies she brought in that day.

"Yes, my sweet girl?" There were only a few people that considered Alluka a girl—only the ones that mattered.

"Am I cursed? Are Nanika and I an accident?"

A moment passed, and Alluka squeezed her eyes shut.

"No, You and Nanika are a miracle."

The next day, Mito took her outside. A territory Alluka hasn't ventured to in centuries, and finally, someone was willing to take her out. She climbed rocks, feeling the cold, rough surface beneath her palms, she rolled in the shimmering snow. And then Mito was nowhere to be seen.

The air stilled and her heart dropped, everything suddenly felt how it used to: cold and lonely. Alluka paced around idly, calling out her friend's name until finally, she heard a broken cry. She ran as fast as she could towards the noise when scarlet soaked the undisturbed powdered floor. And Mito's eyes, lifeless. Alluka spread her pressed her tiny palm against the cold skin, desperately looking for signs of warmth, signs that Mito is okay. But she wasn't, and deep down, Alluka knew that. Blood oozed out of the soft tissue near her waist, staining the once pretty clothing. A dagger dripped green poison, which made everything evident: A Zoldyck did this. Alluka let out a pained cry, her voice strained.

Nanika appeared, her shadowy figure wilted as she entwined her fingers with their friend. A shining light emitted, blinding golden, and the deep wound began healing—a miracle.

Mito's eyes reopened, gasping for air as she shot up, hugging the two girls. No one ever hugged them other than Killua. And she hasn't seen him for ages. Mito's voice was wrecked, and that just made more tears well up in Alluka's eyes, "I'm sorry my dear, I have to escape. I need to go back to Gon." She untangled her arms and sat up, pulling something from her pocket. "This belongs to me," She handed a book to Alluka, "Read it. Find a way out. There's a whole world out there," Another tear fell down her cheeks, "Life is a precious gift,"

And that was the last she ever spoke to Mito. She read the book every day, ingraining every word, every sentence into her mind. Locked up, each sound echoing to a fade, and the dark. But memories to reminisce, knowledge to strive, and desires that kept her patience. Patience for each clock tick, patience for each butler that would come and go, patience as her hair grew to reached the small of her back, patience as the book's pages tattered, and words faded to a dismal grey. Patience until Killua returned.

She can still so vividly remembers their escape—the horrendous blizzard that forced her long hair against her, the violent shudders of Killua's frame, and the unbearable sounds. Sounds that will never leave her mind, lingering as some sort of reminder, a warning, never to get comfortable, never be safe, never feel happy. She remembers the first time she stepped outside of the Zoldyck estate, an imaginary line signifying the difference between life and death. She remembers the first time she saw Killua open a portal, the sudden change of climate from wintry crisp to warm, snugly. And she remembers the overwhelming sense of relief, a wave of contentment that washed over her from fulfilling a promise to Mito, to herself. Her life began—Killua and Nanika by her side.

But she spoke, turning to Killua in dismay, a question that's been eating at the back of her mind since that day, "We're different." She looked down, clenching her hand to a fist, "Nanika is a shadow priest, and I'm...I don't know what I am, but it must be something bad to be imprisoned because of who you are...what you're capable of." She sent a questioning glance at the wide-eyed Killua, "But you have two spellifcations, and you're a good different. Why?"

A pause. Wood from the fireplace crackled in the background, and her heart pounded, anticipatory.

"It's a complicated world." Empathy pooled in Killua's eyes, "Power is envied and," he swallowed, "sometimes even the kindest are feared most."

Power, strength, potential, Alluka hated those words. It always left a bitter taste on her tongue. It's a common adversary and ally, Nanika limited by overwhelming strength and Alluka bounded by weakness. The hardest part is finding that satisfying medium, but it's never power that consumed the mind. Rather, it's greed.

Alluka eventually grew tired of being helpless, "Big brother?" They sat at the dining table. Killua glanced up from his plate, "I want to learn to fight."

"You don't need to." Killua dismissed, abrasively.

"I want to." Her voice carried no exception. It was a pure and true-to-god statement.

A pause.   
  
"Okay."

Alluka learned she was a mage, just like her brother. Killua taught her off and on while she practiced diligently. The rigorous training of containing mana, managing it like a poor fellow would with currency, page-from-page of each spellbook, ingraining each spell into her mind as she did with Mito's book. To this day, she always kept the withered diary in her back pocket. Someday, they'll meet again, and she'll return it. 

No one escapes. No one hides. It's something Alluka grasped the moment of her first battle. A battle that never should've happened. The day Killua came in, hair ruffled, and a scathed face, "Alluka hide until I come back."

But Alluka didn't hide. And to this day, she ponders if that was the correct decision. Her brother was trying to protect her from the brutality of reality, despite it being amongst the inevitable. Perhaps she shouldn't have followed Killua into battle. Perhaps, she shouldn't have stepped out of the bushes and fought without the kill. Perhaps she should've killed.

They were in the most beautiful place Alluka had ever seen. The moon: shimmering against the placid streams of water that separated wild undergrowth. Flowers, moonlilies everywhere, dappled across the rolling hills, neighboring the roots of distinctive colored trees, and lastly, entwined in the hair of those who were bystanders across a perilled battlefield.

Her people fought for the wrong reasons, money, riches, because of greed. So Alluka made the nearly fatal decision of summoning Nanika to heal all of those injured without purpose, without reason. She remembers her feet padding against the soft, fertile soil, her eyes darting back and forth as she entered a building that seemed similar to an inn when the explosion happened erupting screams and shaking the ground with earthquake-force. Everything reflected orange as scorching flames arose in the distance. Alluka ran outside to see the world tree, the essence of life, burning in that hands of hatred.

She searched hours on end that night, looking for the friend that opened her eyes to the world, but she was nowhere to be seen. Denial gave her faith, but logic lingered as an overpowering force. Mito is dead.

' _Sometimes even the kindest are feared most_.'

Alluka never told Killua of Mito. Someday, he'll find out for himself.

~*~

Alluka believed in destiny the moment Killua walked in with a passed out forest elf on his shoulders, and her heart sprang when learning his name was Gon. It couldn't have been mistaken; this was the 'little one' of Mito. As he slept in Killua's room, passed out from the crippling cold, she made sure always to leave extra blankets, change out the warm towel on his forehead, and pretended not to be too curious when asking Killua about him.

It wouldn't go unnoticed to her how Killua would sometimes stare in space at Gon or the way he protected him without asking, or how he would blush at the slightest of compliments. Alluka discovered what friendship was when she met Mito. Perhaps, it's Killua's turn, perhaps it will blossom into something more. Perhaps, the unanswered question of war will be solved with those two. It's Killua's turn.

"See you tomorrow!" Killua promised the day they left in search of malerite. 

Alluka fiddled her fingers nervously. It was tomorrow six days ago. Alluka made herself resourceful: watering the patch of moonlilies on the front porch, dusting various shelves, practicing her daily spell casting, and lastly, flipping through the one book unique to her, special to someone she once knew, and something she's more familiar with then even herself.

Her mind drifted to Gon and Killua. Her older brother at the dinner table snickering about some stupid thing Gon did that day, and a harmless skirmish escalating from there. Or when Gon would talk so positively with a sparkle in his eye towards the future, and see Killua watch from afar with a shocked but admiring expression. Or when the forest elf would compliment the other, a pink explosion accompaniment by fluffed out hair from her brother. Part of her wonders if Killua proceeded to throw Gon off a cliff, that would explain their delay.

She plopped on the couch, a spellbook in-hand. Here and there, she would play around a little, emitting frosted wind or snowflakes from her palm, watching as they fall to the ground as a feature would land gracefully on an undisturbed puddle of water. Something about winter, she felt a connection to. The fluffiness of snow that promises play, the razored ice when it's dark, stormy, gloomy, and how spontaneous it was as is life itself.

Her ears perked up when hearing muffled giggles from outside amongst whimsical scuffling of snow. She peeked her head from over the head of the couch when a familiar head of spikey hair slammed the door open and fell face first. Killua followed soon after, falling to the floor in a bellowing laugh.

Through heavy breathing, Gon managed to make out a sentence, "I'm first!"

Killua, still erupting in giggles, "An icicle is stuck to your ass!"

Alluka, completely taken aback by the sudden change in demeanor, helped Gon up by lifting up his arm. "What the hell are you guys wearing?" gesturing to Gon's more-than-revealing clothes, "Are you drunk?!"

Gon smirked and turned to Killua, "I don't know, Killua. Are we *hic* drunk?"

Killua shook his head, still gigging, "Absolutely not."

Alluka rolled her eyes.

They finally reached Killua's bedroom. Gon wiggled out of Alluka's grasp and flopped down on Killua's bed. Killua emerged with a devious grin on his face, "Gon! Get off my bed!" Alas, the other was passed out, snoring away with a bubble of snot. "Good god," Killua grumbled before sliding in next to Gon. Alluka pretended to shut the door, watching through the crack as Killua observed the sleeping Gon with dilated eyes. His hands timidly sinking into Gon's thick hair as he slowly inched closer with half-lidded eyes, pressing lips to the other's neck before quickly retracting and turning his body the other way.

Alluka closed the door. She smiled as she sauntered to her room. It began with acquaintances, evolved to friendship, and is slowly approaching into something more. Maybe, that's how lovers are. She snuggled under the knitted quilts. Perhaps she enjoyed waiting. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should the next chapter be Killua or Gon's POV? I'll take a comment poll :3


	5. If Only You Knew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know everything, it seems.”
> 
> “Not the things that matter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s a little late, but happy belated birthday to Killua! :3

One Month, thirty days, seven hundred twenty hours, and Killua could remember every minute, every second, and every moment. What started as an agreement of mutual benefits, began as an acquainted partnership, ended with a metamorphosis semblance to friendship. Or was it? Perhaps it was merely a deeper understanding of one another. He remembers every word said, each touch, skin colliding with skin, and the numerous adventures one after another. But when did it begin? How could an emotion strong enough to plague his every thought, a feeling with the durability to overcome the darkest of time, slip through his grasp undetected?

Maybe it was when they first met. Dark hair, glowing amber gaze, and skin. So much skin. It could've been when they shook hands right then and there when Killua's palms met calloused hands dedicated to training. When those same hands, slick from ointment, traveled from his shoulders, and down, down, down. Something in him itched to have the rough pads of Gon's fingers on his tummy, rubbing with desire and hungry amber eyes that made Killua all but melt, a fruitless imagination. The night Gon asked why--why scars littered Killua's back.

Killua grew afraid of the spontaneity of the quelling distance. They seldom mentioned their past, bringing it up came with distance. A distance Killua grew to fear even more so than the closeness. He was confident in his understandings of others; their actions almost always predictable. With spending time together in this "partnership", their thinking ran parallel. He understood Gon. Gon barging into sticky situations or Killua's valued space was foreseeable. It was his own reaction that remained unpredictable. He would be reading, eating, sleeping, _anything!_ And suddenly there's Gon. He should've told him off, sent a chilling glare, but no. Instead, he found himself stuttering, face on fire, and spitting insults lacking bite. The confusing part is he found himself enjoying it, anticipatory on what Gon will do next. It was himself he didn't understand.

Maybe it began when escaping imprisonment. Killua loved the way they ran in sync with one another. Left, right, then left again. Or when Gon undressed in the river, the glimmering muscles in the moonlight begging for Killua's touch, water lapping with gentle disturbance around Gon's legs, thinning the fabric even more so, everything on display as if his body was telling the world: this is who I am. Or perhaps it was when Gon waded towards Killua, bare torso, placing a warm hand on Killua's shoulder. Killua's first reaction was to jump, escape, but in reality, he wanted to lean closer, experiment with what sensation each touch would ignite. But his mind rationalized Gon's intentions once noticing blood disperse beneath the water's surface and the wound passively mending.

Maybe it was their night at the hotel. The night Gon fastened himself to Killua and Killua, discovering his submissive desires. It was a simple touch, an act of kinship. The right thing to do was gently remove the other's arm and move away. But he leaned back. Back into Gon's embrace, back far enough to hear his rhythmic heartbeat, far enough to feel Gon's warm breath fanning his neck, the intoxicating scent of pine. Killua squirmed, it felt so good, but god he wanted more. This was a secret Killua's bound to reveal with time. There would be a time Gon is conscious, pressing against Killua lightly with no sinful intentions, and Killua would melt into him, body betraying his mind. He'll search deeper, but in the end, he'll only find that he can never say no to Gon. He fell asleep hard that night. Gon made him weak.

Perhaps it was the moments that were labeled insignificant. Ambling through an icy forest in the northern kingdoms with nothing but memories and the presence of one another, or chatting of missions and experiences at a local bar with acquainted residents, but never speaking to each other because they didn't need to.

Maybe it didn't matter when. Here it is, a constant reminder that Killua is helpless against it. He's stuck watching aside, feigning indifference as girls hit on Gon. Pretty girls, provocative girls, even shy girls. They strayed from Killua, who was the unapproachable sort, but Gon's another story. And for the first time, Killua hated the other's welcoming demeanor.

Gon disappeared with a blonde that night. It crushed Killua, but he wrote the hurt feelings off the next day by acting of forgetting, and maybe, just maybe, he would forget. Only a few days left, and Killua would leave, agreement finished. The deed is done. Gon would probably wipe Killua from his memory, quite easily he might add, and the thought hurt more than he'd ever begun to imagine.

Mindless chatter took place, and the distance enveloped. Even when Killua was within the same room as Gon, it felt too close. They were in York New for selling off malerite, a brown sack filled with jenny followed by gold, and backpacks strung on chairs as they ate in silence. Gon hadn't touched his food, eyeing him expectantly, but he chose to ignore it.

Gon spoke, voice uncharacteristically timid, "The month is almost over." A long silence followed. "Two days."

"I didn't notice." Lies. Killua has been counting hours. He didn't glance up from his spaghetti, way too conscious of every bite, ears ringing every time metal silverware clashed against the glass plate.

"Do you want to stick together?"

Killua dropped his fork, frozen in time, quiet on the outside, his mind screaming. Gon asked a question. _Yes, yes, yes. Stay with me forever_ , he wanted to say. He worried even saying yes once would give him away, but saying no seemed abrupt like it was Killua who was to wipe Gon from his life easily. "Maybe," Maybe meant please ask again, and again, then once more after that. Even then, he might never make up his always-changing mind.

"It's a yes or no question."

Killua's eyes shot up from his dish, meeting Gon's hard stare, but something else present: hurt? That didn't make sense. His heart began pounding, pressured, terrified of losing everything right here and now.

Killua was still trying to catch his voice when Gon startingly pushed his chair backward, grabbing his bag. "Forget it." He didn't even look Killua in the eye.

To this day, he still hates himself for not chasing after Gon then. He hated himself for not being honest, always hiding his true intentions. He went home alone that night. The door creaked open, the wood crying out just as his inner thoughts were. "I'm home." His voice echoed. Alluka wasn't home. For the first time in years, he felt truly alone.

He flopped down on his bed, the room empty. Gon's scent still clung to the sheets, Killua allowed himself to bury his nose further: the pine scent of the forest just like the night they spent in the dustwallow tree. He wrapped the sheets around his entire body, the fabric light but heavy on his skin. Suddenly he's hot, fidgety, anxious. It was these stupid feelings that separated them. The desire, the want for more when he had enough. Or was it the fear? The fear that Gon would someday find Killua getting off to his scent alone, fear of intimacy with another? He rubbed his palm around the head of his cock, imagining this is Gon's hand, Gon's rough, big hands. More. Faster. His breathing quickened. Images of his former partner were the only thing on his mind, stroking tightly. When he came, he felt disgusted in himself.

Alluka came home later that night.

"Alluka, for the last time, it was an agreement." Killua hated the evident strain in his voice, "Nothing more," He was sadly aware of how pathetic he sounded.

"You can be so stupid!" Alluka was now yelling, "It seems like everyone but you thought you were friends! Gon left because he thought he meant more to you than a tool!"

"Maybe he was."

"Bullshit."

"What do you know about friendship anyway?!" Killua regretted the words the moment they came out of his mouth. He didn't even try to hold back a flinch once seeing Alluka's frame contract.

Alluka swallowed, "More than you do." She stormed out, slamming her bedroom door shut, Killua once again alone, and it was all his fault.

~*~

Killua did not feel like putting up with York New today. Alas, here he is, each step engraving his thoughts with regret. He hated the city until Gon showed up, bright-eyed enthusiasm like some child, but when Gon left, he went right back to hating it. Bars became an avoided territory. He hated the diary farmer's stand, and worst of all, the questions: Where's Gon? Oh, he left? You two seemed so close.

He can't fathom why he decided to eat at the same restaurant, twirling a similar silver spoon as Leorio rambles current events. At least he was one person who let the conversation go after hearing about Gon's disappearance. Or maybe he felt worse that the paladin acted as though he predicted the outcome.

"Gon left to the front lines."

The news horrified him, but Killua was discreet with showing it. Knowing Gon, his impatience led him to the unethical decision of war, probably within the eastern kingdoms, despite lack of experience. "Here's the malerite." He tossed Leorio the sack, shoving food in his mouth as an act of indifference.

"Killua?"

"I'm going to the Eastern Kingdoms. Tell Alluka I'm leaving for a couple of weeks."

"You're looking for Gon?"

Killua didn't answer. So he left with a wave, mind disturbed that Gon was so stupid to let his emotions throw away any rationalization with his lack of experience. Killua stormed out of the restaurant and hustled to the direction of York New Harbor. The main form of transportation is boat travel when crossing to the Eastern Kingdoms. He prayed Gon wasn't so stupid as to fly across the ocean. It didn't matter that he had insane stamina; fatigue always cripples even the strongest in the end. No. Gon is on the boat. He has to be.

Finally, he reached the sturdy wooden docks. Large sails looked like parachutes, seagulls perched on the peer in flocks, and people, so many people. People exporting goods, weaponry, criminals lead to stockades, and children were hugging their relatives goodbye. But no Gon. What if Gon wasn't even heading towards the Eastern Kingdoms? No. Where else would the forest elf go? It's not like he ever thought about going home any time soon, and Killua couldn't blame him. Gon had a home when Killua didn't. Now, it's Gon who's homeless. He ignorantly hoped Gon would become apart of the family, sort-of. A family of just himself, Alluka, and Gon. But Killua grew to realize how naive he was for wishing the impossible. Maybe in some universe where himself wasn't an indecisive closed-off ass, it could've happened.

Killua bought one of the nicer rooms on the boat, and if Gon were here, he'd probably do the same. Though, Killua wasn't sure whether he wanted to find Gon on board. Part of him wanted to immediately apologize and start right back up on their careless relationship akin to friendship, but a lot of him remembered that the boat ride was four days. For someone who lived for hundreds of years, that was generally nothing, but each minute could be proven fatal. Gon knew the questions that would make Killua halt, wilt, or inch away. And a little voice told him that if they were ever to encounter again, that would be the first sentence spoken. Situation One: Live on with the guilt of leaving Gon. Situation Two: See Gon and die on the spot.

Situation One was thrown out the window when he unlocked his room to see Gon. Gon standing there with wide eyes. And crap, they both knew Killua could've opened a portal, so playing it off as pure accident wasn't going to work for him. They both stared at each other for an eternity. And Killua felt fidgety. Very fidgety. He carefully observed Gon's face, unsure whether his eyes reflected grief, pain, or joy. A smile appeared on Gon's face, releasing all sense of prior confusion, "You came."

God, his stupid smile on those perfect lips were infectioness, "As if I could leave you alone, you lug." And suddenly it felt as though they never separated at all--like it was completely natural to be at each others' side again.

Gon idled in the direction of the front deck, and Killua was faced with another decision of uncertainty: follow him or stay. The hallway walls were wooden, just like everything else on the boat. Wooden, dim from flickering candle-light, but oddly cozy. Each heavy step of Gon's creaked into the distance, and Killua paced after him. Maybe this is how it's always going to be? Chasing after Gon as he runs ahead, because staying meant losing him. He figured being in Gon's shadow might not be so bad after all.

The setting sun gleamed across the calm ocean. Dolphins jumped in the distance, everywhere smelled like the beach, and the sky dyed orange. Killua's hair tugged leftward amongst the ocean breeze. Even the temperature was perfect. But what caught Killua's breath away was Gon, who leaned over the edge of the boat with a content expression as if the ocean itself was a distant friend. A familiar lump formed in his throat as he ventured forward, elbows resting against the railing of the boat as he joined the other in gazing at the beautiful scenery. That was something Gon and he always did without any particular reasoning. It was just special.

"I'm surprised the ocean is so calm." Gon's voice was a remedy to all of Killua's screaming thoughts.

"There is a slim portion of water only a few miles wide that is calm in contrast to the dark waters. The captains make sure to use that to their advantage." Killua rambled, eyes never leaving the rippling water surface.

He heard Gon laugh, a heart-warming sound. "You're amazing, Killua."

Killua jolted his head, enlarged eyes finding Gon's face. His honey eyes held nothing negative but warm, admiring, and welcoming. Killua wanted to inch forward and look deeper.

"You know everything, it seems."

Killua shook his head, "Not-" he took a deep breath, "Not the things that matter." He can't believe he just said that. A shiver skimmed down his spine. What if Gon knew the true meaning behind those words? What is he knew?

There was a certain fear when Gon nodded, expression nothing short of honest understanding. And Killua continued staring, eyes frequently adverting due to insecurity, but always finding their way back to Gon. His breath hitched when Gon took a step forward, and Killua stilled. Neither said anything, and a stupid thought of Killua's unburied themselves from the back of his mind. Maybe he could kiss Gon. Perhaps the nod meant that his feelings are okay. His eyes traveled to the reddish lips that he always admired. Killua subconsciously ran a tongue across his own.

Suddenly Killua was pushed into Gon's chest. He almost felt small when Gon's firm arms wrapped around his waist, a chin face tucked into Killua's shoulder. Killua instantly melted, and he prayed Gon didn't hear the small noise he made when exhaling. When Gon let go, he awkwardly stood there, processing the loss of warmth.

"Good night, Killua."

Responding was no longer possible. Killua didn't even try and articulate a sentence back, so he nodded, positive there was an embarrassing blush on his face. Gon disappeared behind the doors.

Killua once again watched the waves. The sunlight dwindled, and now stars began appearing, dappling the sky one by one. A permanent smile clung to his face. He may not be in the same room as Gon, but he knew he wasn't alone. Perhaps, that's all that mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this far, and I give even more thanks to those who left encouraging comments! Gon’s POV will be next!
> 
> https://www.wattpad.com/909503827-a-war-worth-fighting-chapter-5-if-only-you-knew
> 
> The link for a visual of Alluka.(Scroll to the bottom) :3


	6. Complicated Understandings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Since when, of all people, were you the type to feel rushed by time?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short Chapter of Gon's POV :33
> 
> More to Come!

  
  
  
  
  
Gon scuffled through his withered backpack, searching for the boxed memento that blasted him back to his past. Pristine wooden edges, sturdy, and warm as though the wood was still alive and still part of the tree. He fumbled backward on the quilted bed, a tad too small for his height, but comfortable. Gon wasn't ever attached to objects, but this carried something else, something different. It was hypnotic to run his fingers along the smooth wooden lines, tangled like veins. It felt as though it had its own aura, but not quite qualified as an enchantment. Killua would probably know.

He jolted upon hearing a knock. It was timid, almost as if the person responsible was uncertain. He peered through the cracked open door. Killua stood there, wide eyes, striking white hair, and slightly flushed cheeks. Beautiful.

"I wanted-," There was a sharp intake of air-- Gon patiently awaited as Killua fidgeted discreetly with a slight twiddling of his fingers, "I came to see if you wanted company."

Gon smiled, allowing the northern elf inside. Killua glanced around, laying his backpack near the entrance, and flopping down on the sheets like a starfish. Gon sat down next to him, not suggestively, but close enough to feel their knees brush.

Killua broke the silence with an explanation, or self-rationalization, of his behavior, "Alluka missed you."

"Is that the only person?" Gon spurred, raising his eyebrows. Killua being here already told him the answer, but something in him wanted the other to admit it--admit his feelings. And then, maybe, things could be easier amongst the two of them. Gon _wanted_ things to be easier-- not to have to guess what Killua is thinking or feeling with every move. He just wanted to _know_.

Killua looked away, "I guess I did too."

"What did you miss about me?" Gon batted his eyelashes.

Killua barked out a laugh, "You just want to be complimented." He attempted to tackle Gon, nearly victorious, but Gon stood prepared, pushing Killua's torso to the sheets and flipping on top of him.

"Not bad for a druid."

At moments like these, Killua's voice was melodic, his voice prettier, enchanting, and more _addictive_ than a siren's. It made Gon's skin tingly, the undercurrents of something fluttering in the pits of his stomach, and a sense of longing. It was more profound, more complex than something he had for anyone else. It was time and time again he'd find Killua is special.

Maybe it was from reminiscing, or that Gon was still adjusting to the thought that Killua came back for him, but he felt less talkative. For once, he didn't want to share everything that was on his mind. He didn't want to make Killua uncomfortable, and instinct told him he wasn't. The atmosphere was similar to that of the dustwallow tree—a moment Gon doesn't know why it's labeled special in his mind; it just is.

Their legs remained raveled together, and Gon's chin rested on his palm, himself stilting barely above Killua's stomach. Killua's skin felt uncharacteristically warm, soft; _Gon wanted more of it_. Finally, their eyes met. Nervous but not quite fear, giddy but distant. Gon never quite understood how someone could bear so much and remain closed off, shut tight like a safe, holding everything valuable or even dangerous inside. "I missed you, too."

Killua smiled, not a forced grin, or phony, but sincere. Gon wished he could always see that smile plastered on Killua's porcelain face. Even if forever there, it would never lose specialty.

A flat palm gently pushed at Gon, and Gon sat up respectfully. Killua's gaze locked with the small wooden box, "What's this?"

Gon hummed, "Something I always had. It's a long story."

"Since when, of all people, were you the type to feel rushed by time?"

"What happened to your family?"

Killua winced. He let out a tension-relieving sigh, "That's also a long story, I suppose."

Gon crossed his legs, probably looking stupid knowing that he's a full-grown forest elf, one of the taller species in the world, but he wanted his posture to show that he was attentive, that he cared. He grabbed the box, the wooden object fitting perfectly within his palm. "How about a story for a story?"

Killua sat up once more, Gon definitely not noticing how their thighs brushed again, sparking nerves along his skin. The pale boy's voice was deep, his voice, _Gods, his voice_. It left his ears ringing with each laugh, and it took his breath away when he used it delicately. And then it softened, a noticeable aspect when sharing a special moment, "I always did wonder how you became a druid, or rather, how you're not...um..."

 _Dead_. That's the word Killua left out.

"I was young. As far as I know, I was the only kid in the entire country, so I didn't participate in the war. I was sent to Whale Island when Aunt Mito went missing. The day I was scheduled to come back-" his voice croaked, "the battle already occurred."

There was a melancholy silence.

"Did you finish your training?"

"Nope. It's my turn."

Killua squinted.

"What happened to your family?"

"You asked this before."

"And I don't remember receiving an answer."

Killua broke eye contact. "My last name is Zoldyck. I'm sure that answers many of your questions."

"I already knew," which was true. Gon did.

"What?" Killua almost appeared breathless, exposed, _vulnerable_.

It was evident Killua didn't know of Alluka and Aunt Mito. Gon pondered whether it was appropriate, or courteous to the kind frost mage to tell, and he decided it wasn't. "That's Alluka's story to tell."

"What did Alluka tell you?!" Killua was pissed, sharp eyes, scrunched eyebrows, body tense, and seething enormously.

"She didn't tell me anything, okay? Just trust her." _Trust me._

Killua halted, and Gon observed his body language intently. The mage let out a sigh, his hair fluffing as he shook his head, "It's getting late."

"No."

Killua sent Gon a questioning look.

"Just stay."

A silence. "Okay," Killua whispered as he had before. His movements were hesitant as if walking on thin ice. He gingerly sat back down on the bed, and Gon grabbed his wrist. He was mildly offended when he felt Killua tense at the contact as if worried Gon might hurt him, but he shook it off, slowly lifting Killua's hand until it rested on the hair above his forehead.

"What're you-?" Killua's eye widened, mouth falling open part-way. He must've noticed.

"When training to become a druid, the individual gains more and more of an animal's physical characteristics with skill and time." He felt Killua's fingers caress the antler buds gently on top of his head, no larger than a mere dull point. Gon shivered, the sensation was too good having Killua's fingers in his hair.

Killua laughed; Gon hardly suppressed another shiver, "You're enjoying this too much."

Gon hummed in content. They locked eyes, but this time, Killua didn't look away. White locks laid delicately on his shoulders, wispy, dusted violet from the lantern stationed on the nightstand. Killua's face: a rosy blush emerging to the surface of his snowy skin, soft-looking, so soft--Gon knew from experience. Killua's clothing, while not as minimal as when first met, definitely eye-catching, but then again, everything about him was breathtaking. Gon reached forward, fingers grazing over the soft, luscious fabrics of Killua's indigo shirt. He could tell by the buzzed feeling that it wielded light enchantments. They once again locked eyes, pools of uncertainty, alarm, anticipation, and something else, something powerful (desire?). Gon never had such troublesome feelings as these, but he didn't mind it. "What did you mean by saying you didn't know the things that matter?"

Killua tensed, more so than ever before. He shook his head with little movement, "I know you already know the answer."

"What if I don't?"

"Then it doesn't matter."

"I can't read your emotions, Killua." _With you, I don't even understand my own_.

Killua stayed silent, and Gon inched closer. It felt like a dangerous move. He wondered why Killua didn't move away or snap him out of his trance as his fingers slowly found their way into pale, feathery locks. The pads of skin traveled from the tuft of hair, pointing upwards, to the edges of his face, and down, down, from the bridge of his nose to Killua's pink lips. "You're so beautiful."

Killua's breath hitched, his face redder than ever. "Gon?"

Gon leaned in because every ounce of want gravitated him closer, and closer, and closer. Killua's breath smells sweet. What if it tasted the same way? His lips looked soft. What if they felt the same way? And the sinful thoughts of Killua's slender fingers in his hair--a sensation Gon discovered he loved just moments before. He inched closer by the second, too slow perhaps, tilting his head to the right with each break of distance. He carefully cupped Killua's cheek, skin so soft, everything: soft, lips nearly grazing the slight indenture of his dimples, the corners of his mouth, those pinkish lips. Killua didn't move away, and Gon would never forget that.

Every nerve spiked when their lips touched. Gon paused against them, hardly processing the texture, the warmth, the delicacy, the taste, the feeling: indescribable, a feeling like no other. Almost on cue, they both inhaled fleetingly--a promise for much more to come. And Gon replied fervently, pressing harder, deeper until mouths were crashing against one another and noses smashed into the others' cheeks. Killua whined almost inaudibly. Another shiver. A small voice told him to stop, but he wanted more to the point where it was the only thought plaguing his mind.

Abruptly, the boat took a sharp turn, jerking light furniture, shattering small decorative pottery. Killua jumped away as if Gon was made of fire, patting non-existent dust off his knees with a scarlet face. "That shouldn't have happened."

Again, their eyes did not meet.

Gon's heart plummeted, and suddenly he notices he's breathless, "Do you regret it?"

Killua seemed overwhelmed, shaking his head frantically, shoulders tense, and eyes squeezed shut, "Goodnight, Gon." before running out of the room.

"Killua?" He sounded desperate. But the words didn't reach Killua before the door slammed.

Gon sighed, flopping back onto quilted sheets, staring at the door with a confusing feeling of defeat. As he tucked himself under soft linens, he remembered Killua's face. His milky white skin tone flushed red, his night-sky colored shirt barely clinging onto his shoulders, revealing his nape, and his eyes, his eyes wielding seven tons of emotion, half-lidded, _alluring._ Gon wonders what would've happened if the stupid boat didn't abruptly tilt, despite himself not being one to ponder hypotheticals uselessly. And he was well-aware of the difficulties that will be ensued from 'the encounter' when tomorrow rolls around the corner. But as Killua mentioned: since when was Gon one to feel rushed by time?  
  
  
  
  
  


~*~  
  
  
  
  
  


"Killua, are you sure we should be down here?" Gon asked, feeling quite uncomfortable in the storage area near the underside of the ship. The wood screeched as The Bravery swayed left then right. The ceiling was low; he nearly banged his head a few times as he peeked through wooden crates, each filled with grains, weaponry, all the same-old exported and imported goods.

"For the last time!" Killua rolled his eyes, "I'm almost positive I heard movement below deck last night."

"Almost positive?"

Killua turned to him, eyes sharp, eyebrows knitted, and a pink tongue peeping through his lips, trailing across in frustration, "We rely on your 'feelings' all the time."

Gon didn't say anything in response. Killua has been grouchy this morning; he's sure The Night of the Encounter That He Will No Longer Bring Up didn't help. He slumped and banged his head on a nearby wooden crate, loudly expressing his agitation by whining, but Killua just huffed. Suddenly, he heard a noise. Peculiar, like the sound of someone's breath hitching. He carefully lifted the lid. His eyes widened.

"What?" The mage strutted closer, "What'd you find?"

Gon tore off the lid, jumping back and getting into a defensive position. "What do you want with us?!"

A familiar blonde showed himself, frail, and emotionless. Sharp gusts of purple and blue erupted from Killua's palm, blowing away nearby dust, and shining bright and intimidating, "You better have a good fucking explanation!"

"I do not wish bloodshed." The blonde tiredly worded out. "I'm Kurapika. I'm here with no regards to the Alliance or yourselves."

Gon loosened up, glaring speculatively at the scene before him. Killua didn't budge.

Kurapika raised his palms in surrender, "I'm hunting down The Phantom. They're going to participate in the next war, but most likely just for the fun of killing and looting. I planned to disembark upon arrival with no further associations with neither the Horde nor Alliance."

Despite the ill first meeting, Gon felt remotely sorry for the elf. Every step of his appeared painful, as though even the small actions of living followed by suffering. And the amount of weight loss since only a few weeks ago was frightening. "Do you need anything to ea-"

"What is your specification?!" Killua's voice echoed, and the spike or aura was nothing to take lightly.

"I'm afraid I can not say."

"Why not?"

"Because it has nothing to do with you."

Killua snarled, "Well, it's sure as hell our business now."

Killua is acting strange. There wasn't any reason for him to act this defensive. Gon wondered what he was so afraid of.

"What if we get caught helping a high elf? Not exactly a species with the best record."

"I'm not a high elf."

Gon and Killua exchanged glances. "What are you then?"

"I will not say."

Killua ticked, "You know what?" he threw his arms up in the air, "I'm done," before leaving with a stomp.

Gon nodded apologetically and chased after the mage. "Killua, wait up!"

Killua whipped around, his lips curved in a wicked smile that made everything in Gon pause for a moment. "Gon-"

The ship suddenly jolted left as a tidal wave crashed into the wood, water forcefully gushing through. Both boys flew flush against the wall. Some blood Killua coughed out splattering on his white tank top. Passengers' screams pierced the air. Water began filling the underdeck quickly, _too quickly_. Gon saw Killua push forward, desperate against the rapid in the direction of the slippery stairway. The wind took Gon's voice away, fruitlessly yelling when their feet lifted off the ground, slamming against the opposite walls as though the ship itself was falling, _slicing_ through the air.

Wooden planks began falling, revealing the height of the drop. It had to be at least fifty feet left. The land quickly got less blurry the closer to the ground they gained. Gon panicked. Morphing into a bird was too risky with minimal space and the sheer amount of water. He glanced over to Killua, who was moving his mouth with a saddened, unreadable gaze.

 _No_.

"Killua, stop!"

Killua squeezed his eyes shut. Golden, luminous, beautiful magic swirled from his palm and surrounded Gon's figure, and Gon immediately recognized it.

As an apprentice mage, one of the first well-known spells taught is slow-fall. It decreases the acceleration of the fall, minimizing damage. But the caster could only activate it once every five minutes.

Gon's heart sank, and before he could do anything, Killua's limp figure disappeared amongst the fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of feel that this chapter was rushed :') But it is important to have Killua's POV for the next chap! I might make it longer to make up for this shortie. Anyways, tysm for reading and commenting. It makes my day :'3


	7. You Can't Change the Tides

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It seems that the only way to end outside wars is to end an inner war."

Killua took a whiff as he seeped into the realm of consciousness. Salty, moist, but incredibly comforting. Comforting as the breeze would lift the small hairs when watching the waves ruffle next to Gon; conforming like Gon's calloused fingers tracing the ridges of his face; comforting like Gon. He wanted to open his eyes, wake up to see the other above him with his cherishing smile, and everything would be better. He could relieve himself from the past as though it was only a small phase, insignificant, and unimportant. It didn't matter.

Bright. Too bright. That's the second thing Killua noticed. It forced blinding light beneath his shut eyelids, bright like York New Harbor, bright like Gon.

And warm. His tired body sank into fluffy sheets, it was slightly noisy with others murmuring from afar--he wasn't alone, and the barely audible trickling of water soothed his ravenous stomach.

It was akin to a reverie: comforting, bright, warm; Gon.

His post-dazed eyes now focused on a ceiling. Or, kind-of a ceiling. It rippled like waves. A cloth? Perhaps so. But no Gon. He tried to suck in the odd feeling of disappointment--no avail.

Suddenly, as though someone had dropped a memory bomb, all the recollections prior to currently flashed before him. The blonde elf, Gon, the tidal wave, Gon, falling, Gon! He shot up, immediately recoiling as a stinging sensation pierced his stomach. Corresponding to a stream of warm water, blood tickled as it coursed down his legs into a scarlet pool.

Blackness encroached his vision in spurts. Where was he again?

"He's awake!"

Who's awake?

A familiar paladin yanked the curtained door open, yelling something Killua couldn't quite comprehend.

"No," Killua got into a defensive position, "don't come any closer!"

Leorio halted, then hesitantly began forward, approaching with caution as if confronting a feral animal.

"Where's Gon?" Asked Killua, eyes glowing with malevolence. _Why did he leave,_ he wonders. _Is he alive? Where am I? Where is Gon?_

There is silence. All movement stopped except for the blood oozing from Killua's side and the water still trickling in the background, only this time, it's not confronting. His vision is still impaired, and all sounds are muffled.

"Leorio, we need your assistance with other patients!" Kurapika came into view.

Killua jumped to his feet, bristling, and eyes sharpening with contracted pupils. He didn't even wince when he clenched his wound out of sheer vexation, "Why the hell are you here?" He lunged onward, lashing out with slowed movements but nonetheless appalling. "Why-" he coughed out blood, voice pathetically cracking as he flailed to pin Kurapika to the ground, "why do _you_ have to be here?!"

The blonde dodged the sloppy attacks, not even attempting once to fight back. It made Killua frustrated to tears, and before he had time to cast an arcane blast, a warm, viscous of a spell had him slump forward unconscious.

~*~

"Killua!"

He blinked with uncertainty, but he arose to the familiarity of the dreamed sound of a rumbling voice. It inked black inside the tent. The sunlight: gone, only to be replaced by orange glowing lanterns. Instead of the hushed buzz of outside murmurs, reverberances of old wood creaked and metal clanked, but the water--the water still trickled.

No one was there.

Killua flopped his head back on the netted cot and huffed in agitation. He felt imprisoned: none of his questions answered, no clue on what's happening in the outside world, and hopelessly stuck. His attention-hogging wound screamed for nourishment and blared as a reminder that he's rendered useless.

Frustrating.

Killua briskly shut his eyes and slowed his breathing upon hearing someone peer through the cloth door. From listening to solid footsteps padding through moist soil to the shuffling of leather bags, it frighteningly reminded him of the bleak nights stuck in isolation. Bump, bump, bump, his heart sped up, now ruthlessly knocking against his ribcage and causing goosebumps to prickle across his skin.

Everything in him pauses when a husky sigh resonates in the shared space.

Gon.

Killua flutters his eyes open to see the forest elf towered over him with a concerned gaze. Gleaming golden dispersed into melancholy browns within circular irises, and Killua only starred at a loss of breath.

"You shouldn't be fighting recklessly with those injuries."

Fighting? He attempted to sit up to give room for Gon to set, but the other rejected and situated himself on a stiff rug beneath the cot.

Gon continued while staring off into the distance, "We had to knock you out." He added in a quieter voice, "Killua's been out for over a day."

Killua instantly remembered. "Why is Kurapika here?"

"Turns out it wasn't dark waters that caused the crash. Someone—and Kurapika guesses who—activated the Tide Crystal."

Well, that caught Killua's attention, "The Tide Crystal? That isn't a myth?" He mumbled near the end. Big brother had always told stories of the Tide Crystal and how it was fabricated by one of the most powerful sorcerers to have ever existed—A singular gem that has the power to control even the dark waters, which surround a whirlpool so powerful that it caused a tectonic shift, separating a singular continent into five. Killua stumbled off the hammock. He wanted to see for his own eyes.

A firm arm stopped him.

"Gon, let me go."

"So you could reopen your wound like you did yesterday?"

Killua bristled in defeat.

Gon must've noticed the mage's disappointment because he crouched down to Killua's level, back facing him.

"What're you doing?"

Gon snickered, "If you wanna see, then I'm going to have to carry you. Hop on."

A blush erupted on the northern elf's face. His eyes skimmed down Gon's compact shoulders blades to the notable strength present in his thighs. "Y-yeah, no. That's embarrassing."

Ignoring his comment of protest, Gon proceeded to lift Killua. The injured one writhed and timidly wrapped his arms and legs around Gon, pale, slender fingers gripping Gon's rough linen shirt. He hesitated to rest his head on Gon's shoulders, but he couldn't help but sigh once doing so. Slowly, he stood up, carefully adjusting Killua on his back and sauntering to the exit.

And just outside of the structure fabricated of cloth, laid the most remarkable sight the world had to offer. Coral speckled across sand flooring post-under water. Droplets reflected starlight drizzled on kelp and frosted on seagrass. But the most astonishing part was the waves. Almost like they were held by a glass dam, they cut out in a perfect, large, symmetrical square as far as the eye could see. "Whoa". Killua whispered, adjusting himself a bit better onto Gon. He noted the warmth of him-- akin to pressing against an always-working hand warmer, and the dark green locks faintly tickled Killua's nostrils, he even had to grip some of it to keep it out of his face.

Gon laughed, and Killua was able to _feel_ the rumble against his torso, "Is that ticklish?"

Before he could tell him to fuck off, Gon tipped his head back and shoved his entire head of hair into his face. "Gon-!" He got a mouthful of hair, "Stop it!"

Gon wobbled as he dropped his head forward, laughing, later sighing with an undertone of giggles, "I missed this."

His stomach fluttered, "Idiot, you better continue to miss it because that is never happening again. Ever." He said with a huff of finality.

Gon, seething to himself, is an annoying _dumbass._ Killua thought he made his point clear, but soon after the declaration, Gon _once again_ shoved all of his hair into Killua's face. Gon burst into laughter, but the other wasn't feeling similarly. He bonked him _hard_ across the head.

"Ow-!"

"Just because I'm injured, it doesn't mean I'm helpless!"

Killua pauses as Gon slowly set him down, dangly feet touching the surface. His eyes traced the forest elf's figure plopping down on a flat-surfaced rock, "Yeah, I know you're not helpless." He grinned. "I had to enhance a soothing spell to knock you out before you killed someone with that arcane blast."

"You were the one that knocked me out?" Killua's eyes widened at the realization.

Gon hummed.

Both boys let out a sigh and gazed at the stars, despite heavy mist fogging over the dimmer lights. And Killua wondered why the news didn't upset him. If anyone else had knocked him out, he would've raised all sorts of hell, but with Gon--with Gon it was okay.

Instantaneously, Killua felt Gon's eyes on him. "Why're you looking at me like that?" He hesitantly met his gaze, movements too frantic to pull off indifference.

He chuckled serenely, "I enjoy looking at the prettier things in life.

Killua burst into flames.

"Even when forest elves possessed immortality, the essence of time remained. I don't remember much, but I think I appreciate living and knowing I might die someday." He nervously laughed, "As dark as that sounds, it gives each day- or...life more of a purpose."

Killua took in the words, knowing the deep meaning behind them, but it also gave him a horrible feeling of dread. Gon didn't fear death, which can forge a fearsome warrior, but he is reckless.

"About that night-"

Startled, Killua immediately shut the possibility of conversation down, "I wasn't feeling right that night. It won't happen again." He looked away, instead, focusing his gaze on the uniquely shaded coral in the moonlight. A pang of guilt shot through Killua when dead silence was Gon's only response. Selfish. He perhaps hurt Gon because of the impediment of his insecurities.

"Goodnight, Killua."

Killua whipped his head around to protest, but Gon was already walking away. He watched as his figure blurred in the distance and finally disappeared behind the fabric of the tent.

 _Stupid_. Killua bit his lip, drawing blood to the surface. _Stupid stupid stupid._ Tears pierced his vision and began angrily pouring down his cheeks. _Why do I have to be so stupid?_ He hated his past, he hated his family; _he hated himself_ because it was nothing but _himself_ that stood in the way of _everything_. And God, with Gon he just wanted to present all he was and put all feelings on display—to not appear closed off or indifferent, but something would always hold him back. Always.

As Killua laid on the silky sand, liquid flowing down his face, he noticed an indigo shell catch light. His slender fingers gingerly picked it up and caressed the smooth round shape to the pointed edges. Breath caught in his throat when noticing golden flowers inside: the flowers in Gon's magic. The magic faded after a brief moment. He smiled to himself, _I guess I'm not the only idiot._

After putting the shell securely next to him, Killua turned back to the twinkling sky, a small smile gracing his face. And he began to ponder, _when was it?_

_When was it that I fell in love with Gon?_

~*~

It must've been at least an hour before Killua ambled back to the tent. He absentmindedly kicked eroded pebbles on the ground as his thumb swiped across the hypnotic texture of the bulbous shell. The moon now stood from the peak of the sky, illuminating the surface of surrounding tents and darkening all edges faced anything but horizontal.

He paused at the entrance of the tan-clothed structure.

Shaking off his hesitation, he entered, setting the shell on a barrel placed by his designated cot and fumbling around blindly for the lamp. It flickered on, an orange tint plastering the environment. As he undid the pendent, which clasped together his cloak, Gon shuffled, rolling over on his side and facing Killua with open eyes. "I didn't know you were awake," said Killua honestly. "You're normally not sensitive to light."

Gon sighed, "Don't worry, I've been up for a while."

Suddenly, Killua felt awkward undressing himself, despite this being far from the first time Gon had seen his exposed torso. He continued lifting his black collared shirt over his head folding it neatly on the barrel. The smooth rope hanging the cot on a nearby log, that held the tent upright, screeched, and the always-dripping water slowed to a distant rhythmic pulse. Killua prickled at the feeling of Gon's unreadable stare tracing his every move. He was desperate to eradicate the awkward tension lingering in the air, "About earlier, I didn't mean..." He trailed off. _What did I mean?_

"You didn't mean...?" Gon egged on.

As if the seafloor morphed into a volcano, Killua's face molded into a blazing inferno. He felt the sudden need to _get out of here._ "I- er, never experienced something like that," pausing, "...before." He cursed at himself and wondered, _what the hell am I saying? And, where is the nearest possible escape?_

Gon sat up, draping his hands over his thighs, and the intensity in his dark eyes made Killua shudder. A shadow swayed tantalizingly from Gon's shape, flickering with the old-fashioned lantern. "Killua never kissed anyone before." He echoed, and Killua wondered if Gon meant that as a form of mockery or if he found the concept hard to comprehend.

Killua's heart sped up when the druid stood up, cot creaking, and his slow movements fully determined on something the mage couldn't quite pinpoint. Suddenly, he's looking up at Gon's towering figure. A large hand slowly descended. Killua bit his lip, anticipatory on what came next. Would it be caring physical contact he secretly craved since childhood? Or would it be the punishment that he had endured day by day? Instinctively, he winced when Gon threaded his fingers _oh-so-gently_ in Killua's layered hair.

Gon spoke, a questioning whisper, "What are you hiding to make you tense like that?"

Killua met his gaze, half-lidded and feeling hot all over, "It's going to take more than that to get the answer."

He couldn't contain a small gasp when Gon leaned down, warm breath caressing his ear and blowing the ticklish white hairs, "Do you know what I want?" Gon sighed out.

The words shot straight to Killua's cock. He knew his face was the color of blood, and he grew fidgety, but he didn't push away. Not this time. "Show me," He whispered in response.

Gon hesitantly placed his warm lips on Killua's pulsing neck.

Killua couldn't believe this was happening. They need to stop, but why? Why did it feel so natural to melt into Gon? Why did scent alone have Killua entranced and mind completely fogged over? What does someone like Gon see in someone like him?

The mage responded with careful touches, slightly gripping Gon's shirt and cautiously tilting his neck back. Gon's mouth trailed up Killua's nape with wet splotches, sometimes using his tongue in spots that made Killua squirm. His mouth fell open in a desperate moan, and that elicited a groan from the other. Shivers rippled down his spine as Gon pressed on Killua's lower back, following the indenture and the tip of his pointer finger indecisively going under and over the band of his leather pants.

Someone tore open the tent's entrance and Killua instantly pushed Gon away, both of them heady with lust and panting.

Kurapika stood in the doorway. A dead silence washed over.

Killua slapped a palm over his flushed face, "Son of a-, what're _you_ doing here? And why are you even awake?! It's midnight!" he seethed.

"I could ask you two the same thing." Kurapika quirked an eyebrow, and a traitorous heat circulated in Killua's cheeks. He coughed, "That's beside the point. I apologize for the intrusion, but I needed to discuss issues relating to a common enemy. I wouldn't have entered at this time of night if I didn't see any lights on." Kurapika finished pointedly.

Killua glowered and mentally noted to himself to keep his hands tucked in his lap to prevent exposing his boner. "Get on with it," he grumbled, resembling an agitated cat.

"We need to influence others to focus on The Phantom. I went scouting earlier and sighted some of the members scavenging the clearing. They grew suspicious, so I aborted the mission before trailing them back to their temporary base. I know you, Killua, to have decent skills in shadowing, and Gon carries a strong influence amongst the survivors of the crash."

"And why not just announce your plan for the meeting tomorrow?" Killua asked.

"Cheadle's tactics are unfit for this fight. She'll be focused on defense rather than offense. With this particular situation: a wrong move can cause a massacre. As it did for..." Kurapika trailed off, and Gon scrunched his eyebrows, concerned. The blonde snapped into reality, "Sorry..., no matter what, two of the strongest fighters are going to have to stay at camp no matter how much I want to dwindle that number. Leorio for sure is staying," he turned to Gon with a sympathetic gaze, "you might have to stay as well since you're also knowledgeable in healing."

Gon wilted.

"That's all. Just make sure to make it to the meeting tomorrow morning." and then Kurapika waves his goodbyes, leaving an awkward silence filled with nothing but distant creaks in the background.

"Gon-"

"Let's get some rest so we're prepared for tomorrow." Gon cheerfully declared.

The mage lowered his gaze, "Yeah, okay." He flopped on his side with his back facing Gon, writhing to get in a comfortable position. Gon was right. Temporary feelings shouldn't get in the way of important things. He needed to return home to Alluka, he must bring justice for his family's crimes-- _the war needed to end._

And then he recalled his former teacher's words: "It seems that the only way to end outside wars is to end an inner war."

If that's the case, he may not be prepared for that battle no matter how hard he trains.

~*~

"We should send scouts to explore this uncharted territory. Keep the strongest fighters here," Cheadle began mumbling, "we don't want an ambush."

Kurapika spoke up, "We should be focusing on the Tide Crystal, not an ambush."

"Says the high elf," The captain of the ship grumbled.

The blonde turned with a sharped gaze but resumed to withhold dignity, "If our speculations are correct, and it is the notorious Phantom guild, then all of us will perish once they decide to deactivate the Tide Crystal.

Gon spoke up, "What about teleportation?"

"It's blocked," Killua interjected, playing with violet magic and imitating various shapes of shells laying in front of him.

"Couldn't you keep trying to cast it so we could be ready when the teleportation barriers lifted?"

"Moron," Killua smacked Gon over the head, "As a mana user you should know it's finite energy--especially arcane! Whoever is blocking teleportation is bound to be associated with the Tide Crystal wielder, and it would only be common sense to lift the spell after deactivating the gem." He continued in a know-it-all manner, "Plus, I only memorized the coordinates of major cities and my house. It'd be stupid to open a portal and cause four tsunamis worth of seawater to flood everything."

Gon gritted his teeth, "Well then, what do you suggest we do to escape?"

"While the escape is a concerning matter, we shoulds shift our focus to injured soldiers and possibilities for an ambush. It shouldn't take too long seeing that we have two highly skilled doctors on the job. But as of my use, I can stealth in the opposite direction of the other scouts and meet up halfway to make the process go by faster." _As we planned last night._

"Or we can just ask for help."

That earned Gon another smack to the head.

"Stop that!"

"Then stop saying stupid things! Are you trying to get everyone killed?!"

Gon shoved himself into Killua's face, red tinting his cheeks most likely from the heated of anger, "I'm stupid? You're the one who cast slow-fall on me and nearly killed your-"

Killua back-handed him on the nape. Gon hunched forward unconscious. "Don't worry, he'll be awake in a few minutes." The mage reassured their audience after noticing the horrid shock.

"It happens every day," Leorio grumbled in the background.

Cheadle, the leader of the meeting, awkwardly adjusted her glasses and continued, "Killua, you'll be assigned with Kurapika to scout east. We can't have you go alone with those injuries,"

The northern elf scowled. He was hoping he could solo his mission.

Killua didn't take much advice from his family, but he did believe they had a good sense of judgment when it came to comparing an individual's strength. He remembers, chained to a wall, scrapes and bruises littering his torso from a prior mission, and his father meeting his gaze with a firm, icy glare, "Never underestimate high elves. Their magic is never predictable." He put a powerful hand on Killua's head, "remember: the strongest opponents can hide their strength."

 _Oh, Killua remembers alright_ \--especially getting pinned down by the blonde and having to travel _all the way_ back home for Alluka to get rid of a magic cancelation spell. He glared at Kurapika, who diligently imposed his input throughout the meeting. He was intelligent, Killua could give him that much. Even in battle, Kurapika judged Killua's moves based on minimal hints of movement and no further prior knowledge. He acted upon thought, showing he was confident in his abilities. His intelligence could be proven as a resourceful ally, but a formidable enemy.

Either way, Killua was not looking forward to their assigned scouting mission.

As soon as the meeting ended, Gon awoke with sand smudges on his cheeks and droopy eyes, "What...happened?"

The mage snorted, "That's payback for knocking me out a few days ago."

Gon's eyes widened before cracking a huge smile and bursting into laughter; Killua couldn't help but join. After the giggles died down and the crowd dispersed, Gon spoke up, "Since you wound healed some, I can patch you up before the mission."

Killua caught himself from the automatic response of denying help. "Okay..." his voice trailed off with hesitance, instincts telling him not to indulge while his cravings wanted nothing more than to crush his body into Gon's furnace of a chest--an internal conflict that needed to end for any hope of leaving stagnation--for Gon's sake as well.

He absentmindedly followed Gon to the medical tent, doing directly as he was told like a puppet: kicking his leather boots aside, tearing off his clothing to his boxers, and standing there exposed as if he was presenting his entire self to the druid in front. Everything was quiet, slow, and a fragment of sunlight seeped in through the seams of the tent. Gon held a small smile, and with the most delicate of touch, pressed his luke-warm hand to Killua's stomach, a feature sensation that wafted all pain away.

A content silence.

"Where did you learn how to heal?" The mage whispered the question.

Honey eyes met his, warm, gentle, "My Aunt taught me. She was the best medic in the world." His gaze grew saddened as he focused on the wound once more, "...and mom."

"You loved her a lot."

Gon's ears drooped, a pained smile tugging the right side of his lip, "everyone did."

A minute passed, and Gon's hand left Killua's bare stomach, "All good to go!" He turned away, wiping the blood off his hands with a cloth. Killua stared at Gon's back, feeling as though he should say something, but as he would open his mouth, words would never sound.

Gon spoke, "Make it back safe so we could head to the bar when we finally make it home."

"So you could fall through the front door and pass out on my bed again?" Killua snorted, "you have zero tolerance to that stuff."

Gon laughed at that, "What would be the point of drinking it if I couldn't get hammered? Plus, I know you'll keep me from falling off a ditch somewhere."

Killua's heart shouldn't have leaped, and there was no reason for a sudden rush of heat to fill his insides with fuzz, but it did.

Kurapika tore open the curtain, tossing a dagger to Killua, and throwing a black cloak over his blonde hair, "Ready?"

"Yeah," replied the mage, rushing to put on a black mask, turtleneck, gloves, and finally, his cloak with the enchanted pendant that he couldn't bring himself to ever take off, despite it having the signature 'Z' of his family's name engraved into the silver.

"I'll follow after you. I know a spell to detect invisibility."

 _Of course, he does._ Killua rolled his eyes and cast a green-liquid poison on his daggers. He couldn't help but notice how much he relies on his former training as an assassin no matter the amount of arcane instruction. Assassins were made to kill, and killing is part of war. Soldier, medic, scout-- it didn't matter. _We all have blood on our hands._

On instinct, Killua slipped into the shadows, flipping the blades into the pockets of his cloak, and swiftly taking off with soundless footsteps. He used the edge of his foot to conceal prints in the sand, and the strange, regrettable portion of him found it _thrilling_ to be using his rogue moves again. From slicing through the moist air with a leap to slipping into the silhouettes by nature alone--his decent motor memory would've fooled anyone to think it hasn't been a hundred years.

All of a sudden, a slim girl with a pink ponytail came into view, cat-eyes skeptical of her surroundings. Killua shot to the nearest bush. A member of the Phatom right there in front of him. _Where is Kurapika at a time like this?_

Nowhere to be found.

It was unlikely Kurapika used invisibility, Killua probably had just lost him. He cursed at himself. They are in a life or death situation, his pitiful feeling of freedom endangered the entirety of the mission. Promptly, the blonde elf appeared right beside him, "I forgot to mention, I have the flask of invisibility."

Killua closed his open jaw once realizing it was hanging open, " _Why do you have the flask of invisibility?!"_ He seethingly whispered.

"We're right in front of a Phantom member and you want to know why I have the flask?!"

" _Yes!"_

Both boys ultimately froze, a sudden chill running their blood cold.

They've been spotted.

_This is bad._

Kurapika, with furrowed eyebrows and an intense gaze, once more took out the vile from his cloak. He turned to the mage and mouthed an apology before pushing him out into the opening.

**Oh, and here are a few pictures I drew. Thank @GonKilluLuciel for the challenge that made me leave my lazy lump of a habitat and actually do something.**

****

**As always, thank you so much for reading and commenting! It makes a writer so happy <33**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading! <33
> 
> Could you guys let me know what POV you want to see more etc? And I'm truly sorry for how long it took to update. Hopefully, this long chapter made up for it! 
> 
> -Savannah_rea :3


	8. Wavering Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Fighting for peace is like fucking for dignity"

"Remember, Gon, always follow the dreams. Use this," Mito pointed at Gon's heart, "not so much this," booping his forehead.

Gon was only a few hundred years old at the time, the peak of his height hardly reaching a full-grown elf's stomach. He threw his head back with a whine, "But Aunt Mito, how do we learn to fight by just meditating? Isn't there something else I can do?"

"With patience comes great deeds." She pointed at her head, "you'll get to train for defense once you get your buds. But that's all it's for: defense. Never should you abuse it."

_ Mother Nature's Dream. _

An ethereal realm of ever-changing spirits and untamed nature. Only a select few can reach it and even fewer resist succumbing to the corrupted powers granted outside of the physical world. Time spent in the dream meant becoming the dream, and any individual's body would slowly evolve to accompany the heart of the forest. To the body, change is irresistible, but a singular differentiation in mindset could become disastrous. Just as it did for their former leader, and just as it did for his father. Or, so the rumors claim. Ging Freecss: the most powerful druid to have ever existed-- until he had fraternized over the enemy; until he disappeared and Gon being the only trace left behind, but no one viewed it as abandonment. They only perceived it as a gift. A gift of golden eyes—said to be a sign of the goddess's blessing, a gift Ging had left in assurance of protecting his people; a gift that displayed Gon had promise, but that's all it was. A symbol. He didn't earn respect. It was given to him. He had the opportunity to become anything, but he was nothing. It all left him quite bored...and lonely. He then found the dreamway as a form of escape, so he felt like he was actually  _ contributing  _ to the said greatness the goddesses granted.

It all depended on the mind.

He meditated in the medical tent. The wounded moaned in pain, and he tried to block out the frantic sounds with lesser, more monotonous echoes, such as the gentle sway of fabric in the wind or droplets pattering on the sandy floor. But why? Why couldn't he enter Mother Nature's dream since the massacre? Every night he meditated, begged, and prayed.  _ Nothing,  _ not even a semblance or glimpse of the realm. He  _ needed _ the power of the druids to fight back, to fulfill his said purpose.

But little did he know, it was his mentality stopping him the entire time.

Killua hasn't come back for hours, Gon worriedly realized. He was instructed to leave the mage all alone with a stranger, and he  _ agreed _ to it! No, Killua can handle himself. But why did a feeling of dread engulf him every time the thought raised to the surface of his mind?

A hurt soldier wailed, "Lily, I'm sorry."

Gon winced, the refugee's leg was severed with the fall, the bleeding would never ease, and how he always spoke of his daughter, Lily, a small human girl that he claimed to be the kindest on the face of the planet.

"Damn it!” Gon gritted his teeth,  _ why can't I enter the dream?! _ He despised being weak—assigned as a healer who can’t even heal, the lack of battlefield experience rendering him naive and useless when it mattered. He knew Killua had a sufferable past, but the selfish part of Gon wished he was in his shoes because  _ he _ had experience,  _ he  _ had opportunity, but Gon has the resolve  _ he  _ lacked. Gon relaxed his tense shoulders. This circumstance is frustrating, sure, but it would take a lot more than jealousy to start disliking Killua.

An image of the mage popped in his mind, an image of him smiling with his signature whimsical glint. He remembered their journey together—the small moments often labeled as insignificant. The snow was particularly gentle that day, so they decided to make the most of it. Gon couldn’t help but gape in amazement as Alluka and Killua challenged each other in a duel. 

“This is a battle of time!” Alluka declared proudly, her feet taking a defensive position. “Remember, only magic. Assassin moves are cheating.” 

“Yeah yeah,” Killua waved his hands dismissively. “I won’t even need them.”

Gon watched from the sidelines as Killua took the first shot. An eruption of solid emitted from his palms, a swift orb of blues and purples rapidly heading towards Alluka. 

Gon covered his eyes. A solid hit could seriously injure her, but Alluka grinned, long, inky hair flowing gracefully as she cast a crystalline ice barrier. She used it as a decoy, teleporting a few meters behind Killua and trapping him in solid ice. 

“Immobilizing a spell caster doesn’t do much,” Killua taunted. 

Suddenly, she began chanting under her breath. Blizzard-like wind gushed from the sky atop Killua. “As I said, it’s a battle of time,” she smirked. “Either you run out of mana, since arcane energy burns through it so quickly, or,” she pointed at the ice crawling up Killua’s figure, “that freezes you solid.” She turned to Gon and began bouncing, “Did you see that? That was my first time beating Killua! Maybe I could go explore with you guys now! Oh, Maybe-“ 

Killua’s palm to her neck instantly had her go silent. “I win. As you said, it was a battle of time.” 

_ Incredible.  _ Gon peered from the outskirts of the battle ring they traced in the powdery snow, “Killua, you’re amazing! And you, too, Alluka!” 

Pink dusted the porcelain skin of the silver-haired mage, and Alluka sighed in defeat, “alright, you win, big brother. How did you do that anyway?”

Killua scrunched his nose when a snowflake landed on top of it, “arcane energy is incredibly powerful, but it takes a while to build up. Knowledgeable fighters know this and make sure to use quick attacks before arcane mages have the chance to charge. However,  _ experienced _ arcane mages know that.” He patted her on the head, despite Alluka being nearly as tall as him, “right when the duel began, I cast a spell to rewind time to whatever state I was in at the beginning. Within three minutes of that, I had the opportunity of rewinding all physical impediments to that moment.” 

Intelligence is what makes the strongest mages. Having smarts is expected of a person if they’re an experienced mage, yet Killua’s quick thinking shocked him. Gon has quick reflexes, but strategizing in battle was never his strong suit. He mostly relied on instincts and adaptation. 

But that made Gon wonder, how  _ did _ Killua obtain all that training? The Zoldyck’s were notorious assassins, not casters. Killua and Gon had a silent understanding of one another, and with that came boundaries based on intuition alone. Nonetheless, they were boundaries.

Though a few questions couldn’t hurt, right?

He asked later that night. By living with Alluka and Killua for quite some time, he began to feel like they were his family, and maybe they thought the same of him. He hoped they did. The remorse in him wished Aunt Mito could’ve met Killua—he wished he still had a family of his own, but in the end, they’re merely wishes. 

That night they laughed about small things that happened in the past. Alluka shared an amusing story of her sneezing and nearly freezing all of Town Square in York New, and Killua and Gon spoke of all the sorts of characters inhabited at the local bar. Soon, one of them called it a night, and Alluka went her separate way to her bedroom. 

Gon asked when Killua laid on the quilted bed, a conjured quill in his hand along with a withered, leather journal. The candle flickered as wax leisurely dripped down the glass base on the wooden nightstand. “How did you learn arcane magic?” He finally asked. 

Killua’s sharp eyes gleamed under snowy bangs. Sighing, he closed his journal with a quiet slam. “It’s considered honorable to the family name to send a child to The Kakin Empire. Heavens Arena is what they called the floating city.” He narrowed his gaze in the distance, “Heavens Arena is where the mages train using ley lines as a source of power. Powerful archmages keep the city floating to protect that energy from danger.” He smiled a little, “though it isn’t all that hard to break in.” 

Gon’s eyes widened, “you broke in?!” He feigned an over-the-top gasp. 

The mage rolled his eyes, “no, dummy, but I did escape once or twice. Anyway, I trained there for several years. Heck, they even wanted me to lead because I was ‘ _ special’  _ in some way. At the time, it conflicted with the family’s wishes. Tch, it’s not like anyone could take on the most infamous family of assassins along with the most prestigious city of magic in the world at once. I didn’t want that life.” His expression saddened, “I didn’t know why it was so hard to be normal.” 

Gon stayed quiet. He understood what that was like, maybe not to the extent of Killua, but he knew what it was like to have expectations of many watchful eyes and no room to take a breath. 

Killua snapped out of his trance, doing the same to Gon in the process. “It’s not that important, anyway,” said the mage. 

A lengthy silence followed. Gon tucked himself into the cushiony blankets of the neighboring bed, a few feathers due to an occasional pillow fight laid here and there. He listened to the calming sound of fire crackling in the distant fireplace and Killua flipping yellowed pages. The silence stayed until Killua blew out the candle, turning his back towards Gon and getting situated under the covers. 

“Killua?” 

“Yeah?”

He wanted to ask why he wasn’t in The Kakin Empire now. It’s safer there, so why aren’t he and Alluka over there? But he already asked enough questions for the night. “Nevermind.”

Killua yawned, “whatever, get some sleep so we can  _ actually _ get stuff done tomorrow, moron.” 

Gon hummed back a quiet response. 

It was until later he figured out the reason Killua no longer remained associated with the Kakin Empire: he killed one of the archmages. 

  
  
  


~*~

  
  
  


“Gon?” Someone jabbed him in the side. He opened his eyes slowly, squinting at the blinding light, “Leorio?” 

Leorio towered above him, concern lacing his gaze, “what are you doing, napping at times like this?”

He fell asleep? He rubbed his forehead. ‘Suppose he did, but he didn’t dream. No, that was a memory—not a dream. 

Mother Nature’s Dream. 

Now he remembers. When training years and years ago, the druids would speak of signs that appeared when getting closer to finding the pathway into the other realm.  _ ‘Unconsciously envisioning memories without any delusions caused by dreaming is a sign that you’re beginning to take control of your unconscious mind. That is a necessary asset for adapting to Mother Nature’s Dream, _ ” his mentors lectured. 

While the outcome of becoming a druid amazed Gon, the process of doing so was quite boring. Training revolved around the inactivity of thinking and sleep. Because of that, he always found sleep a waste of time, and who could blame him? Warriors train by combat, so why couldn’t druids do the same? Either way, felt like he hit a brick wall that blocked all potential of further advancement. 

Gon threaded his fingers into his thick hair, feeling the buds on his head. He sighed,  _ nope, still buds. _ He lifted himself up with a groan, “what’s the scout missions status?’

Leorio frowned, and Gon’s heart dropped.  _ Did something happen while he was asleep?  _ When will he stop  _ sleeping _ battles away? When will he serve his purpose instead of letting people down--instead of letting  _ himself  _ down?

“We haven’t heard from them, but we shouldn’t worry too much. Killua and Kurapika never gave a specific time for when they’d return.”

Gon huffed, “It’s no fun waiting.”

Leorio sighed, “I’m the opposite.”

The druid tilted his head, confused.

“I never really wanted to fight. I guess I can understand the thrill behind it, but I never wanted to participate.” Leorio tilted his head back, smiling at the clothed ceiling, “It’s my dream to have a society where all of us medics are bored, complaining about the inactivity and how desolate hospitals have become.”

“Leor-”

He cut Gon off, “but it’s a stupid dream. The whole world could be falling apart, and nothing will ever change. As my old man would say, ‘ _ fighting for peace is like fucking for dignity _ .’ And he was right, but if it wasn’t worth it, we wouldn’t be here now would we?”

A smile stretched across Gon’s face, “right!” 

A couple caught Gon’s eyes from a distance. A blonde human girl and northern elf, laughing with ecstatic eyes and smiles of pure joy. It confused Gon, but the only person he thought about was Killua--Killua laughing at Gon’s idiocy, Killua’s eyes of pure emotion, or even Killua angry at...  _ also _ Gon’s idiocy. When they first met, Gon didn’t fully understand Killua. Well, he knew what he liked and disliked, but he didn’t have a deep, conceptual understanding of his reactions to affection. They contradicted each other. Gon would put a hand on the mage’s shoulder; he’d flinch as if Gon had just stung him with a horrendous poison, and then there were heartwarming moments when Killua would lean into his touch, clinging to Gon some nights when the mage thought he was asleep. It began as a game of curiosity, of getting to know Killua, but sometimes he skipped steps, and that resulted in someone getting hurt.

He remembers last night, Killua clinging onto his shirt as Gon put his hands on all the exposed skin, burying his nose to inhale the sweet scent that drove him crazy. His body felt warm just thinking of it.

Leorio cleared his throat, “you’re thinking of Killua, aren’t you?” It wasn’t really a question, more of an observation. 

Gon didn’t respond.

“Well, he should be back shortly. It’s getting dark, after all.”

_ And that’s what worries me _ . “Yeah...I’m sure they’ll get back here within the hour,” said Gon.

But Killua never returned.

  
  


~*~

  
  


“They’re back!” someone had yelled.

Gon immediately perked up, dropping the herbs in his grasp, and tumbling into the clearing. Countless others swarmed into a giant barrier for the druid. He kindly mumbled apologies as he squeezed through, shoulders tensely squished in the process, “Killua!” he called out. Suddenly, everyone went silent.

Kurapika stood alone in the clearing.

“What happened?” Gon asked off-beat.

Kurapika brushed the dust off of his silken cloak, speaking in a rather informative manner, “We ran into some difficulties. A member of The Phantom spotted us; I was the only one to escape.”

Gon lowered his gaze, “yet you had time to pick up herbs on the way back?”  _ Did he even bother to think if Killua was still alive?  _ “And how did manage to escape when  _ Killua _ is a trained assassin?”

Leorio intervened, “Gon, that’s enough. We need to be working together, not-”

“I give my sincerest apologies for your friend, but if he was truly a trained assassin, then he wouldn’t have been caught.”

The druid’s heart rate sped up, scorching heat circulated his head, taunting him, and adrenalin violently pumped with searing malevolence. His physical frame grew in size, his shadow now towering over the people sitting idle. He bared his teeth, “take that back!”

“And...here we go,” Leorio mumbled, stepping back and raising his hands in surrender. 

Gon lunged forward, his body swiftly morphing into a hostile,  _ feral _ bear. He lashed out carelessly as refugees screamed. Kurapika activated a mana shield similar to the spell Alluka and Killua used while sparing. 

_ So he’s a mage.  _

__ It caught fire, forcing Gon to back up. The druid snarled. He knew he didn’t stand a chance.

“Yo, I got all the supplies you guys-” Meleoron, a sailor had called out, seemingly noticing the sight before him and stopping in his tracks, “And...what did I miss?”

Gon took a deep breath, sighing out the tension that made his shoulder blades ache. “I’m going to get some rest. Killua can take care of himself, but I’m going to go get him back tomorrow morning no matter what.” And with that declaration, he trudged back to his shared tent with the mage. He kicked his boots off upon entering, leaning his head back with closed eyes and simply wishing all thoughts away. His bored gaze traveled from his silhouette on the wall, to the decaying wood with important belongings inside. Gon always had the square object given to him by his father, but that’s it. Killua was different. The mage always had his silver pendent, a dagger or two, and a leather journal.  _ The journal. Just what was in it? _

__ No, he wouldn’t pry. Killua deserved his space, but what if it was something important? No, Killua would tell him, right? Gon turned his back on the crate.

Gon had asked once, months ago, “Killua, what are you writing about?” 

“Stuff,” he responded vaguely.

“Stuff,” Gon repeated in a deadpan. 

The mage huffed, and Gon couldn’t help but smile whenever noticing his white locks prickle in annoyance, “You’re being irritating.”

Gon batted his eyelashes, “yours truly.”

“Fine,” A small smile curled his pink lips, “I’ll tell you.”

The druid perked up, instantly crossing his legs, attentive, “really?”

“No. Go to sleep, moron.” 

But something in Gon’s gut told him that Killua would tell him someday. 

Gon’s eyes once again darted to the leather journal sitting atop a crate of clothing and accessories. His curiosity caused his fingertips to crave running over the texture of the cover, flip through the yellowed pages. His awareness wanted nothing more than to learn of the unknown, but not just of anything--he wanted to know as much of Killua as possible. A flame of want--the want to get closer to the mage--demanded to be fed, it demanded to quell the waking curiosity; it hungered to  _ know. _

His long fingers caressed the book. The leather was cold at first touch, but something was off. Despite appearing quite ordinary, an inviolable, devastating aura emitted from the book. 

He opened the book. 

It was a multilingual dictionary. 

Something was very off. Gon cast an unmasking spell native to the forest elves. Glowing, the leather book morphed into pure energy itself. It’s yellowed pages evolved into thin, golden sheets, the cover turning the color of purple with speckles of liquified mana encased in small hourglasses that attached in a swirled design. A silver pendant latched the book closed--the pendant that instantly reminded Gon of the one Killua held onto all the time. 

Unclasping it like shackles freeing a prisoner, Gon opened the book.

His blood  _ instantly _ ran cold. 

  
  


  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long to update this book! I'm aware this is one of the slower chapters. Poor Gon and his POV have been stuck with that lately, but I promise things will start picking up soon. (I'm even thinking one of the most eventful chapters to come will be in Gon's POV)
> 
> For those who have read my other stories, which book would you like to see updated more often? It's beginning to get quite hard to keep so many going at once, so I'm thinking of prioritizing one of them and making sure to update that weekly along with alternating the others. Anyway, thanks for reading this far! <3


	9. A Killer or a Saviour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Okay, I’ll train as a mage.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A War Worth Fighting won the vote! This story will at least be updating once a week from now on. I hope you enjoy this chapter! :3

“Did I do good, Big Brother?” Killua asked. He was around six hundred years old at the time, wearing all black, leather armor with wedged blades soaked in green poison and dripping silken blood. The human target laid lifeless on the ground, scarlet liquid oozing from his punctured heart. 

Ilumi sighed, distaste curling at his thin, creased lips, “Kil, what did I teach you about wielding your blade incorrectly. Stabbing him in the heart is instant death, but since the blade is already coated in venom, it’s better to aim for an area that won’t spill as much blood. Unless they’re trained with poisons, they’ll immediately be paralyzed, so you’ll know at the very beginning of the fight.” Regardless, Illumi ruffled Killua’s hair when he noticed him wilt. He rubbed smeared blood off his younger brother’s plump cheek. “We can train some more when we get home.”

The former assassin complained, “Does that mean I have to go to the electric room?”

The first few visits Killua paid to the electric room had him quiver upon the mere mention of the name. He can still vividly recollect the smell of burning skin, the numbing metal strapped to shaky limbs, and the numbers he would think, plain, simple numbers that gave him hope that the torture is finite. And it was. Not because of mercy, no, never that, but because his marionette of a body adapted. 

“No, no,” Illumi shook his head, “we need to work on close combat.”

Killua nodded, both siblings slinking into the shadows and becoming transparent to their surroundings. Following his elder brother’s trail while they were both invisible wasn’t easy, to say the least. Having both of them perfecting the technique, Killua learned to search for the subtlest of clues: a slight change in wind or temperature, a fallen leaf swaying slightly on the ground, or even a piece of grass shifting in an abnormal direction. At home, they were always training, practicing invisibility even when meandering the house while bored or shuffling through the kitchen for snacks.

Killua learned to make both daggers a part of him akin to an extension of his body. He enjoyed it—slicing through the air with natural agility and feeling the wintry air dampen his cheeks — but then, that one day of training that seemed like any other, Grandfather interrupted them, informing Killua that Father wished to speak to him. Bewildered, he complied. 

Father perched on woolen cushions that folded wrinkle upon wrinkle. A dim light loomed over, hauntingly capturing every detail under its light, and a chair awaited in front of him, a chair that Killua knew all too well, but unlike everything else, it didn’t inflict unbearable pain. “I see your technique is strengthening. I could hardly sense you.”

Killua slipped out of the shadows, grinning with innocence—or, whatever  _ could  _ be considered ‘innocence’ within the Zoldyck estate, “you wanted to see me?”

“Yes,” He gestured for Killua to take a seat in the chair across from him, a wooden creaky thing, “I got a letter requesting for you in the Kakin Empire.”

“Why? Are they requesting help assassinating a notorious felon? You would think they would have at least  _ someone _ with enough experience to surpass me. Maybe Big Brother Il-”

“No, it’s nothing of the sort.”

Killua tilted his head, his perplexion heightening. 

“They are inviting a young Zoldyck to train in Heavens Arena, the city of magic, and it’ll bring great honor to the Zoldyck name. After some thinking, I decided it should be you.”

“Why?”

His father sighed-- a rather deep, husky sound, “Illumi lacks in resolve, Milluki requires strategic intelligence, and Kalluto is missing individuality.”

_ ‘Alluka is out of the question,’ _ were his unsaid words. Killua tensed. 

“Okay, I’ll train as a mage.”

  
  
  


~*~

  
  
  


Killua coughed out blood, “This isn’t the first time I’ve been wrapped in chains,” he lowed his gaze, annoyance knitting his eyebrows together, “what do you want?”

An elf with black hair and sharp eyes peeled off his mask, nimble fingers injecting a liquified poison into a syringe. Each clank of metal medical ware echoed off a ceiling of darkness. Water dripped, dripped, dripped,  _ fucking _ , what’s it with being confined and water  _ dripping _ in the background? Killua snarled, he has a history with The Phantom’s leader. They know his fighting style, which puts Killua at a huge disadvantage. “You have to be the shortest elf I’ve encountered,” the mage remarked, though the other chose to ignore the comment.

“You won’t be talking for much longer,” the ‘Short One’s’ voice rasped, or was it a whisper? Gon probably damaged his hearing.

“By the blue tint, I’m guessing that poison is derived from nightshade, which even knocks individuals with a decent immunity out cold, but I hate to break it to ya, I’m immune to it.”  _ Distract him, distract him,  _ Killua slowly reached inside his pocket. His fingertips grazed the fragment of malerite--only two crystals left. Ugh, he needed to travel with Gon back to that dreadful cave. Empowerment is a necessity, especially when using the leylines in Heavens Arena to charge isn’t an option. He knew he’d be screwed if he just  _ attempts _ to take on more than one troupe member-- _ the warlock especially. _

Mages: probably the most iconic wielders of magic. Some sorcerers obtained their power through worship, paladins, for example— though, they mostly served as medics on the battlefield. Druids worshipped an old god by connecting to nature, but they were incredibly rare to come by. And lastly, there are  _ warlocks _ .

He will never forget.

“That’s the Zoldyck,” one had whispered.

“I heard one of the archmages is privately tutoring him.”

“Amazing.”

“Even his eyes shimmer with arcane magic, scary.”

“He probably thinks he’s the best.”

“A Zoldyck, huh? I wouldn’t want to be on his bad side.”

_ All the whispers.  _ With three books in his hands, a wand dangling aside his belt, and a linen robe that’s a foot-too-long dragged behind his every step, Killua, with his piercing blue eyes, glanced left and right.  _ Why all the whispers?  _ He trotted on the mana-infused stones that lined a simple, stone pathway, the destination leading who knows where. Everything about the city’s infused with magic, from the mailboxes to the very land itself. He blew open the library doors.

“Ah, Killua. I see you’re here for more books,” the young librarian chucked, “you sure breeze through them.”

Killua sat the books down on the counter, brushing the bangs out of his face, “Something doesn’t add up.” He bit the side of his lip, “something massive.” Speckles of purple mana drifted lazily around the room like fireflies. Constellations lined the spiraled ceiling, puffy clouds passing through on occasion, the ceiling itself merely feeling like the essence of pure freedom, space right above him, within his sights. Brooms swept under the command of magic and so did dusters, feathering magic dust to disperse in the air and slowly descend onto Killua’s very own palm. Books, Killua has read them all. 

_ Except for one.  _

__ Archmages ruled Heavens Arena, but one particular mage stood out--the most powerful of them all, but his  _ power _ didn’t make sense. Every mage fell under a certain study: fire, frost, and arcane, each with their own strengths and weaknesses, but it’s  _ impossible _ to master arcane magic without depleting mana. Ley lines —earthen roots— pumped mana, but it's a finite supply. That’s why the city is floating, so it can travel once a specific point is drained, but that only happens once every one hundred years, and since his mentor took over power, it hasn’t happened  _ once. _

__ Archmage Daiki Kurta: Killua’s mentor, and said to be one of the most powerful sorcerors to have ever existed. His clan, the Kurta, is known for their scarlet eyes and their substantial apprehension in sorcery. Day after day in his chambers, he taught Killua as his apprentice, molding the arts of the arcane, the  _ raw  _ intellect behind it into him, and at the time, Killua felt like the luckiest person alive. The apprentice mage devoted his life to his training, reading books and books and books. 

Except for one.

His mentor’s book. 

There was something off about it. Upon a casual sunrise, Killua withheld his own investigation, reinhabiting assassin training and blending into the shadows. He instantly remembered the thrill in it, the unquenchable thirst for action. Step by step, he followed the archmage. Daiki dubiously glanced in all directions, scouting if being watched, but Killua trained for this. Killua followed him down the corridors, aware of each flicker from nearby candles. 

He winced as an arcane blast knocks him back.  _ Crap, invisibility no longer works once afflicted damage.  _ He pounces behind the nearest corner.

“I know you’re here,” said the archmage in a haunting taunt, “show yourself at once!”

Killua crouched, cold sweat gathering on his palms, his heartbeat erratic.  _ Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump.  _ He clenched his chest, fingers entangling in the fabric of his hooded, black cloak. He had to calm down and  _ fast.  _ Sighing, he released the tension in his body, slowly melding into his surroundings, and heading to the exit in a precipitous prowl. 

The mission wasn’t entirely a failure. One thing’s for sure: the archmage is  _ definitely  _ hiding something, and most likely something treacherous. 

“Is something troubling you?” 

Killua shook his head, “No, nothing’s bothering me.” 

It was the librarian, his black mid-length hair hovering over a cloth headband above mystifying grey eyes. Killua had spoken with him a few times, quite knowledgeable--the man before him, but he’s another mystery that Killua yearned to resolve. 

“You’ve come here every day as if you’re looking for a specific book?”

“I am,” Killua responded reluctantly. Giving away honest intentions wasn’t always the wisest choice. 

A smile crept upon his chapped lips, an unreadable gaze coming and going at the blink of an eye, “Perhaps, we have the same goal.” It wasn’t a question. The man knew everything based on intuition alone.

Killua furrowed his eyebrows, having to suppress a confusing urge to grip the base of his wand and scroll through all of his spells internally. At the time, he was not yet skilled enough to cast without a wand to direct him, and he wasn’t fluent in the material to rely upon memory alone. “How do you know we’re searching for the same relic?” 

The mage tensed as the man leaned forward, “The puzzling book the archmage wields.” Chills ran down Killua’s spine. He continued, “or perhaps you’re troubled by the circular logic of Heavens Arena’s mana source--how it’s been  _ three hundred _ years since relocating,  _ or _ you’re bewildered by Daika’s mastery of the arcane arts?” 

Killua gulped, “...yeah, that’s what I’ve been searching for,” his gaze narrowed on the individual in front of him. “Answers. I want answers.”

“Midnight, I’ll be at the training quarters. A few others will be there as well, others who know the  _ truth. _ It would be exciting to have you work with us, Killua Zoldyck.”

And that’s how everything began. The assassination, the rise of chaos, the crumbling symbol of order, the civil war; the genocide.

It all began with Chrollo Lucilfer. 

  
  


~*~ 

  
  


Killua waited, but he didn’t know what he was waiting  _ for _ . Was he ever going to encounter the warlock? Are his deadening fingers or strained muscles ever going to break out of this  _ atrocious _ confinement? Would the crew at camp stupidly assemble a rescue team? Gon would think of that, a fond smile gently curved Killua’s whitening, sore lips. 

“You’re just as sick as rest of us,” the individual before him rasped, his dialect intelligible but broken. Feitan, was it? Whatever, it doesn’t matter. 

Killua returned an icy gaze, sharp as the pointed icicles hanging from the roof of his home with Alluka, “Don’t you  _ dare _ lump me in the likes of you—a group of sociopaths with nothing to lose,  _ but nothing to gain _ .”

“Same actions, different reasons. Who cares? All dead in end.” 

Killua’s eye twitched, “then what’s the  _ point _ of keeping me here,” he venomously seethed.

“Boss wants words with you, so shut up.”

By strength alone, Killua yanked the chains apart, metal scraps clanking against the walls of some stone cavern. He moved swiftly towards a nearby dagger, quickly dodging a sword that came his way. The first attempt to reach for the dagger: missed. He was forced back when burning blood sizzled across the floor, splattering and bubbling. 

Killua glanced up, his stomach turning from the sight before him. 

Feitan stabbed himself in the thigh, manipulating his own flesh that fizzled and splotched on the cold, gravel seafloor. Each sickening plop of steely flesh, one after another, engulfed the room in a sickening smell of rot, scorching skin, and the irony taste of death. Killua’s nose wrinkled in disgust. He lunged for the dagger once more, finally grasping it at the price of shattering his mana shield. 

“You assassin,” Feitan said in a strained rasp. He laughed, laughed, and laughed, and it reminded Killua of his brother at the loss of sanity. Killua, with a sudden  _ unbearable _ urge to escape, reluctantly stepped back to merge with the shadows. 

_ Surrounding, surroundings-- shit, it’s a dead end _ . He’ll have to get through the death knight.  _ God _ , he’s going to fucking  _ kill _ that stupid, blonde high elf!

“ _ Asksha Frosshe.” _

Suddenly, the enemy’s power level spiked. 

Not. Good. 

Killua fumbled for the fragment of malerite, whispering the enchant as quietly as possible to avoid revealing his location. The crystal shattered into a violet sugar, the substance buzzing with energy, vibrating the mage’s sweating palms. Like dandelions blowing in the wind, it swirled in a summoned breeze around Killua, a hue of vibrant colors tinting his eyes a gleaming azure. 

An arcane barrage, followed by an electric, projecting orb. Because of the closed quarters, Killua would take some damage and risk completely draining all mana.

A blade slashed his shoulder, scarlet splattering his cheek. Killua couldn’t even remember the last time someone managed to tear open a deep wound when he fought back seriously. Killua coughed, wincing at the pain. Gathering up all his strength, he began chanting, “ _ Ishlune ador- _ ”

__ But the spell didn’t go through.  _ What-  _

__ The mage let out a scream in agony, his limbs stretching apart at an excruciating pace. 

“The betrayer amongst betrayers. We meet again, Killua Zoldyck.”

Blood dripped from the corner of Killua’s mouth. He bit the inside of his cheek. 

_ Just when he thought things couldn’t get any worse.  _

__ “Chrollo Lucilfer--quite a hefty bounty you got on your head,” Killua spat, reaching for his daggers. 

  
  
  


~*~

  
  


“Stupid, stupid,  _ stupid,” _ Killua cursed to himself. If it wasn’t for that dumbass, Feitan, losing his control, he never would've escaped. Blood trailed behind him with each footstep on the mushy dirt. He ran as swiftly as possible to warn the others. Dread twisting his gut, he  _ knew  _ The Phantom would drown them all in a matter of hours. 

The heat of the sun taunted his wounds, sweat commingling with blood. Behind towering, leafy kelp, their base laid. The buzz of mingling and weaponsmiths working echoing off rigid, mossy rocks. Flies lusted to feast on Killua.

“The mage is back!”

“Where?”

“He’s injured!”

“Someone get Gon!”

“I’m fi-” Killua chocked, more blood staining his inky cloak, “I’m fine.” Blurriness encroached his vision in spurts. A small crowd gathered around him, he could see Gon staring with an unreadable emotion. Their gaze met, “We have to get ready...coming... _ all of them.” _

__ Leorio grabbed his arm, lifting him. Killua wiggled free, “ _ I said I’m fine _ , old man.” His legs wobbled. No, he can’t afford to pass out. 

Suddenly, the horrifying sound of water crackling had everyone so silent.

It began.

Killua’s foggy eyes watched as twelve thousand feet tall waves crashed from all corners. People screamed, all running in terror and huddling together when noticing they’re trapped. All of them: trapped. Killua, with an unstable stance, stood up, blood dripping with every breath. He remembers his vow--his vow to never abuse the arcane arts as his corrupt mentor once had, he remembers his knife digging into the archmage’s flesh, feeling the blade bypass his rips and mash into squishy intestines, and he remembers how sickening it felt--the inhumane act of murdering someone who taught him everything he knows.

But it had to be done, and so does this final spell.

Summoning all the energy he had left, to his hollowing breath, he spread his hands out. Powerful, concentrated energy emitted from his palms, static electricity encircling his entire frame. A shield held the ocean at bay within a five-mile radius, the weight, tons upon tons, shredding his internal organs apart. The sound of water slushing from the dam of magic reverberated a now-silent crowd. 

“Kurapika, open a _ fucking _ portal to somewhere desolate to avoid flooding. I’ll _ ah _ \- I’ll keep… the waves from drowning us.”

Kurapika only stared with widened eyes.

“Hurry!’

The blonde scrambled to the center clearing, instantly opening a portal, and directing people through.

Killua closed his eyes. Would he even survive this? Perhaps not, but at least he fulfilled some aspect of his purpose. He killed four times the population that survived the boat crash, but perhaps saving them is enough. Gon is fine on his own, and he trained Alluka to be strong. The idea of dying never bothered him because he felt like nobody  _ needed _ him, and it was somewhat soothing. Gon and Alluka  _ didn’t  _ need him, so why? Why did the thought of leaving them to face eternal rest bother him so much?

He squinted one of his beaming eyes open. No one was left...they...they all escaped. Four seconds, three, two- Killua leaped for the rift.

One.

He landed on a soft patch of grass. Agonizing tears streamed down his face. He felt like his lungs were decaying, his nerves numbing at the overpowering sensation. 

Darkness finally faded over.

  
  


~*~

  
  


It must’ve been at least two days Killua’s been out cold. His stinging eyes reluctantly squinted open, sunlight--warming and welcoming, this time-- caressed his face as a mother would gently hold a baby, like the time Killua remembered holding Alluka as an infant in his tiny arms. The lighthearted laugh she made, clear, blue eyes twinkling in an innocent delight, and it was then, Killua  _ knew _ she was different, she was kind, and he told himself: she will  _ never  _ have to feel alone. The blush on her cheeks, the color of cherry blossoms, accentuating the curvature of her dimples whenever she smiled. That was the first time Killua ever cried. 

“Daddy, daddy! Killua’s awake!” yelled a young human male.

Leorio opened the door, picking up his adopted son, Kaiden. “How are you feeling?”

“Horrible,” Killua grouched, sitting up with an ache. On the nightstand adjacent to his bed, rested hundreds of gifts: flowers with awe-striking petals, mini chocolates wrapped in ribbons upon ribbons, and letters piling from the floor. Killua felt his heart swell, eyes watering a bit. 

“Everyone brought over gifts for thanks,” Babbled Kaiden, arms widening as far as possible to emphasize his point. “I heard you held the entire ocean! That’s amazing, right, Dad?”

Leorio smiled, “yes, yes it is.” He put Kaiden down, and the little one ran off with a joyful bounce.

Killua nibbled on the best fucking chocolate he’d ever tasted. The flavor melted on his tongue, the sweetness warming his insides with childish happiness, and for some reason, despite having little to no correlation, he thought of Gon. He remembered his distant glare across a field of panicked citizens, and how cold it was. 

“Where’s Gon?” The mage finally asked. 

Leorio glanced through the doorway as if checking to see if Kaiden was out of hearing range. “Look, Killua…” The paladin sat down on a withered, old rocking chair--the type you’d generally only see in a cozy elderly home.

Killua’s heart dropped too fast, he asked immediately, his words dripping with worry, “Is he okay?”

“Yes, yes, he’s fine. You saved all of us.”

“Then where is he?” Killua was beginning to get irritated. He just wanted a simple answer! 

“Gon...left, and he told me to give this to you.” Leorio handed Killua a book of his former mentor. The golden sheets wavered at the touch, infused mana dripping off the corner of it’s cover. The hook: unclasped. 

The mage’s eyes widened, his heart plummeting,  _ So he read it. He read the book. _

_ Gon _ ...if only he could explain. Killua prayed it wasn’t too late. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does writing action scenes suck? Absolutely. I still feel like writing comes so unnatural for me, but I only hope to improve. While the slow-burn is (yes, suffocating, I know), I find it necessary to a better ending, I'm sure you won't regret it! >;3
> 
> Thank you all for reading this far (it means a lot to me--maybe too much lel).


	10. Fraternizing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Because I love you, idiot!”

Gon always relied on his feelings. They never failed to exterminate a troublesome matter at hand. He has  _ resolve,  _ as people call it, but Gon didn’t fully understand what that meant. He has an impulse, and he acts upon it—nothing unduly complicated. Sure, it’s preferred by the general audiences of society to use a common morality in deciding what’s ethically correct, but instinct hasn’t failed him thus far, so why bother?

Yet here he is, facing the repercussions of a simple mind because this time, his _ feelings  _ were conflicting. A feeling of twisted betrayal brawling at thoughts of endearment—and all towards a certain mage: Killua Zoldyck. 

Gon sat lonesome at the local bar, calloused fingers tracing the tethered rope that hung from the marble countertops of the bar. He tapped the tips of his leather soles on the rusting, golden pole which stretched horizontally right to left. It was quite early in the afternoon, so only a few committed customers sat at tables, distant apart with unapproachable scowls. 

A young bartender leaned over the counter, his billowing white shirt appearing cream under the yellow-tinted light. “Would you like anything to drink, sir?” 

Gon, reluctant with his answer, replied with a courteous no thanks. 

He returned to his previous action, which was doing absolutely nothing. Bored. Clueless. Is this what it all truly measured up to? Gon considers himself far fetched from dependent, but something told him he wasn’t independent, either. 

Everywhere he traveled with the mage, he’d always get comments saying,  _ ‘you two fit perfectly together _ ,’ and Gon didn’t disagree. He’s positive they could both have a wordless conversation based on expressions or tiny gestures alone. If Killua’s hair prickled, he’s irritated; if Killua hid his eyes beneath snowy bangs, and his hands tucked in his pockets, then he’s relieved, happy...or loving; if an uncontrollable zap of static gingerly raised the hair on the back of Gon’s neck, then Killua’s most likely embarrassed— all of these indications, they meant something, didn’t they? 

Yet, a barrier of the strongest magic stood in the way of proper communication. Insecurities piled upon insecurities upon insecurities, questioning was like walking on thin ice that already cracked, and Gon tried to move carefully at the appropriate pace, praying to reach the other side rather than falling through. But attempt after attempt, he falls, and Killua remains as distant as ever. 

Gon snapped his attention towards a couple that entered the bar, laughing and pushing each other around...and, merely a few weeks ago, that was himself and Killua. Betrayal. His stomach churned. Anger boiled his blood. He clenched his fists.

But then he’d remember Killua’s laugh, his compassionate nature towards those he cared about, and his eyes, irises that carried so much emotion —sadness, admiration, curiosity, thoughtfulness, adoration— all at once. 

Whatever these contradictory feelings he felt towards Killua were, he knew one thing for sure. Killua... _ no one _ should be in procession of  _ that book.  _ It needed to be burned, destroyed, drowned in the depths of the dark waters. 

After all, his aunt would be alive if it weren’t power-crazed sorcerors that plagued these lands. 

  
  
  


When Killua returned from camp covered in blood, Gon’s first reaction was to stare. His heart dropped as the mage wobbled with weakened limbs. He needed to heal Killua, but what held him back? 

His discovery.

Merely hours prior, his curiosity got the best of him. Gon’s fingers caressed the sheets of golden paper. “Why was he hiding this?” The druid mumbled to himself. He flipped past the decorative cover, “Studying the Arcane Arts...Chapter one: Summoning the Nightwell-” Gon dropped the book as if it caught fire. His blood ran cold, mouth agape. He- he... _ Killua Zoldyck _ wielded the book,  _ the spells _ responsible for the massacre of all the druids-- the  _ slaughter  _ of his aunt. 

He remembers returning to a home that no longer stood, a home that failed to welcome him back, and an aunt that quit breathing and sharing her cherished smile and whispering words of wisdom, and he never felt more alone.

There must be some reason Killua had the book? Maybe, he stole from the archmages. After all, the Kakin Empire led the attack, and Killua was said to leave during that time. Hope still flickered in Gon.

But then, Killua’s gaze met his as he stood amongst a crowd, and everything in Gon stopped once more. He didn’t hear any of the words that spilled from Killua’s mouth. The next thing he heard was water sloshing and the air howling at a deafening volume. 

_ Go to him, or stay away? _

_ Go to him, or stay away? _

__ His indecision kept him frozen in time. 

Suddenly, the ground shook. An overwhelming source of energy, unlike anything Gon ever felt before, erupted. A dam of solid arcane magic, swirling particles of blues, purples, and gold encased all of them in a protective wall. The druid quickly returned his gaze towards Killua, breath escaping his lungs. Killua stood there with blinding, blue eyes, white hair beaming brighter than the sun. Electricity zapped his figure, his clothing blowing with a sudden gust of wind. 

“Kurapika, open a  _ fucking _ portal to somewhere desolate to avoid flooding. I’ll  _ ah- _ I’ll keep...the waves from drowning us.” The mage yelled.

Everywhere was dark,  _ pitch dark _ . Luminous fire magic caught flame nearby, Kurapika twisting his wrists in hypnotic circles. A portal emerged, hardly wide enough to fit two humans. 

Leorio marched forward, “Everyone through! Stay clear from the rim!”

Fearful bystanders lined up, pushing and shoving and screaming. Gon only watched. That spell-- intuition told him it was from the book, he used the Nightwell’s ancient energy. It had to be, unless...no- that’s impossible. 

“Gon, hurry up!” Kurapika yelled before hopping through the portal. 

With a final glance to Killua, Gon followed Kurapika.

He landed in thin, vibrant grass that spotted across rolling plains. A gentle breeze tugged on precarious branches, leaves that went astray blanketing on the towering overgrowth, yet it was too perfect— purposeful. Gon immediately recognized it as the forest Killua misdirected them on during their last mission for malerite. 

Survivors laughed and cried, hugging one another and kissing the ground. “Killua Zoldyck held the entire fucking ocean!” One had yelled. “I bet he’ll be labeled as an Archmage in no time.”

Gon tensed. 

That’s when Killua made it through the portal, at last, falling to the ground with a thud and shallowing breaths. Leorio races towards him, “Gon, help me bring him to shelter!”

The druid complies. He bent down as the unconscious mage rested on his shoulders. Gon gingerly hoisted him up and wrapped his arms around Killua’s mid-thigh. 

Warm breath rhythmically fanned Gon’s neck, shivers trailing down his spine. He suddenly felt all anger and pent up tension float away; an urge rose to the surface of his being. The need to be fragile, despite knowing Killua was arguably one of the strongest entities on the planet— like tucking a small child to sleep, feathering fingers through their soft hair, and running the edge of your fingers ever-so-lightly on the smooth planes of their face, careful because applying any more force would wake them, and it’d shatter the moment. As Gon carried him all the way to the human capital, Killua slept soundly on his back, breath beginning to fog as the air ran chilly. 

Finally, when arriving at Leorio’s simple home, he set Killua down, letting gravity slide his limp figure on the cotton sheets of a premade bed. Gon hesitates, eyes narrowing as he watches Killua sleep. A rare sight it was indeed. 

His hand showed little restraint, slowly hovering over Killua’s face. 

_ You don’t know him,  _ an inner voice echoed. 

He stops himself. 

Gon clenches his fist and grits his teeth. He shuffles his bag for the book and lays it next to the bed then briskly lugged his backpack on one shoulder and headed for the front door. He needed time to think. Alone.

“Are you leaving?” Leorio called out from the hall, his concerned gaze trailing up and down Gon’s tight stance. 

“I don’t know, Killua...I-“

“Killua cares about you a lot, buddy. Whatever is running through your head right now, just remember that brat worries about you twenty-four seven.” 

_ I know already _ . “He’ll know where to find me,” and the druid shut the door behind him. 

  
  


~*~

  
  


Gon needed some fresh air. The bar only brought unwanted memories, so he decided he’d return to the place he always considered home: nature. Just outside of York New City, the druid meandered along the strip of beach, childishly competing with himself to make the biggest and deepest footprint in the pebbled sand. Miniature white crabs scurried across the water’s rippling surface, burrowing in a quarter-sized hole for protection against the unforgiving wind. Sighing, Gon morphed into a bear and plopped down with an audible  _ thud. _ He enjoyed the feeling of his warm fur rustling against the ocean breeze. 

He scrambles up when a child nearby screams. 

“B-bear!!!”

“Wait!” Gon reverted to his original form, “see, everything is fine.” A dorky grin spread across his face.

The small girl’s face immediately brightened up with joy, “Where did you learn how to do that? Is it magic?” She bounced forward, a curious tilt in her head and neck craned upwards. After all, forest elves were considerably taller than humans, let alone a child. He crouched down to the girl’s eye level, “I’m a druid.”

“What are those?”

Hm, what is a druid? I guess the thought hadn’t crossed his mind. Druids protect life by harnessing the vast powers of nature, but that didn’t explain their powers  _ or _ the dream. Gon laughed awkwardly, “I guess we’re like mages for nature.”

The girl’s blonde braids swayed as she buzzed with excitement, “can you do a spell, please?”

Gon smiled, “of course.” Leaf-green essence danced above the girl, flowers falling like rain one by one. Roses, daisies, lilies, all dropping on her head, gracefully floating to the sandy floor. She scooped up all the flowers in a bundle, throwing them again and again. All the while, Gon watched with a flicker of childhood innocence, and how simple things were back then. 

When her laughter died down, she decided to sit, staring off in the distance, “Mister, why are you all alone?”

Gon sighed, decidedly taking a seat beside her, “I’m having a bit of a disagreement with a friend. He...kept a dangerous secret.” The druid’s voice trailed off, feeling unreasonable with his emotions now that he’s saying them aloud. 

“Maybe he had a good reason.” she kicked her feet, dust clouds blowing amidst the breeze. “My brother never tells me anything. One day, I got mad, but Daddy told me he was just trying to protect me.” She sighed and Gon couldn’t help but notice how small and high-pitch the sound was, “then I wasn’t mad anymore.”

“Lily, supper is ready!”

The blonde girl pounced, shaking the sand off of her pink, frilly dress. “I got to go eat now, but it was nice meeting you, mister druid.”

“Bye, Lily,” responded Gon. He watched with narrowed lids as the girl disappeared into the distance. He once more focused on the tides, a hum of an old lullaby rumbling at the bass of his throat. 

_ Beneath, beneath the forsaken willow tree, _

_ Their blood stained red across the tainted roots, _

_ The wind cried out in pain, _

_ Embers drifted along the broken shore… _

  
  


_ ~*~ _

  
  


__ Gon patted along the brick path leading to the local tavern. Each stone was a different size, uneven, and moss cautiously climbed forward between every crack of rich soil. The night sky in York New always seemed brighter— maybe because it was a city. Nonetheless, Gon couldn’t rely on stars to find his way. He’ll memorize a building or two, instead. Rose’s Bar: check. Lion’s Rest: check. Killua behind him with a knife in his hand: check. 

...wait.

“ _ Sedu Reduzite.” _

__ An arcane blast knocked him backward. Gon tripped on his feet and landed with an  _ oof.  _ Before he could counter, Killua jumped on top of him and barricaded his feet in ice, immobilizing him. 

“Killua, what are you-“

Killua slapped him across the face. 

Gon bristled, “What was that for?!”

The mage shoved himself in the forest elf’s personal space, yelling, “are you an idiot?! I thought something  _ happened _ to you! Don’t you know better than to just up and leave after a near-death experience? I was…” Killua trailed off, his eyebrows knitting together with a confused emotion in his sapphire eyes, but Gon was far too angry to admire them. 

“You were what?” Gon seethed. 

Killua didn’t respond. 

“ _ This  _ is the problem. I can’t even  _ trust _ Killua anymore because you can’t trust me, either.” 

The mage dipped his head down, shoulders shaking and his grip on Gon’s wrists weakening. Gon yanked his hand out of Killua’s grasp. The other flinched. 

“Just- just let me explain, please. Then, I’ll leave,” said Killua in a hopelessly wrecked voice. Gon’s heart dropped at the desolate sound. 

“Fine.  _ Tell me _ .” 

The Zoldyck reluctantly nodded, “may we speak in...er- a more private place?” 

Gon looked around to find citizens circled them with widened eyes and hands muffling their gasps.  _ Oh, oops.  _

__ Agreeing with the mage, Gon led him to the room he rented for the night. He unlocked the wooden door with a rusted, silver key, and opened the door for Killua. The Zoldyck trudged through as if he were in enemy territory. Gon’s eyes bored into the back of his black cloak when he let the door shut with a click. 

The tavern room was nothing special. Candles melted and filled the room with a sweet aroma as the wooden floor screeched from the friction of leather boots with each step. A painting of York New harbor rested within a simple frame above a large bed. Patchy quilts stacked and stacked and stacked. Killua took a seat in an armchair, his hands shoved in his pockets due to insecurity. Gon leaned against the wall, observing him with crossed arms. 

__ “As you know, that book does not belong to me,” Killua started. 

Gon huffed. 

“It belongs to my mentor, Daika Kurta— an Archmage in Heaven’s Arena. I surpassed the others with my training within the first few weeks and was recognized by the circle of archmages. When each of them asked me to train for them, I chose Daika, of course.” 

Gon, fully attentive, decided to take a seat on the edge of the bed, his gaze unwavering from Killua. 

“He mastered the arcane arts, which confused me because  _ no one _ masters the arcane. To this day, scientists still search for the true meaning of it, so I began researching at the library and read every book. I even tried stalking him once, but that ended in failure.” Killua took a deep breath, exhaling in a long, stretched sigh. “That’s when I met Chrollo Lucilfer, a warlock masked as a mage.” 

_ The leader of The Phantom? _ Gon’s ears perked up. 

“With a group he assembled over time, we planned to kill my mentor because of the treacherous bidding he did within the book. After several months of planning, we succeeded. But...then, Chrollo asked for the book right as I was about to burn it. He replied that it was none of my business. With little hesitation, I declined, taking the book for myself and leaving the Kakin Empire for good.”

“Why didn’t you just  _ destroy _ it?”

Killua snapped his head up, eyes gleaming, “because then I never would’ve known what he was looking for. I always guessed he searched for the Nightwell.” 

_ The Nightwell— _ a combination of hundreds of ley lines within a single source. The western queen, thousands of years ago, constructed the well for power, foolishly overlooking the risk of tearing the planet apart. It was said to be… somewhere amongst the forest elves' kingdom. 

“If he  _ ever _ came in possession of the Nightwell,  _ everyone _ would be in a world of shit, so I hoped to find it first,” Killua pulled the book out from the pocket inside his cloak, “with  _ this. _ ” He tucked it away once more, “but it only gives clues on its whereabouts. However, it has spells in here that instantly collect power from the well no matter the location… I promised I’d never use it, but yesterday was a dire situation.” 

When Killua finished, a silence encroached the room. 

The mage abruptly stood up, “I’ll leave now.”

“Wait-“ Gon grabbed Killua’s arm before he could exit the room. 

“What do you want, Gon?” Killua didn’t look him in the eye. 

“I want you to stay.”

“ _ Why?  _ You said it yourself, Y-you can’t trust me.”

“I can’t trust someone who doesn’t tell me things!” Gon exclaimed. 

“Why do you care?!” Killua yelled, startling Gon. His voice dropped a notch, “why did you stay by me for longer than our agreement? Why didn’t you just leave?”

Taken aback, the druid blinked with a blank stare, “well, it’s kinda obvious…”  _ He’s never seen Killua behave like this before _ . 

“ _ Don’t  _ start that. Just...answer the question,  _ please.”  _ He begged. 

Gon marched forward, stopping Killua in his tracks. With clenched fists and unbreakable eye contact, he shouted, “Because I love you, idiot!” 

And before Killua could respond, Gon dipped down to capture his lips, inhaling the scent he craved for far too long. His lips were warm, so warm. Gon’s eyelashes fluttered open against Killua’s cheek. The mage’s eyes were blown wide, wetness gathering and streaming down his reddening face. Gon immediately pulled away, “Killua-”

Killua interrupted him with a searing kiss, causing Gon to tumble forward until the chests were touching, heaving against one another and creating tantalizing  _ friction _ . 

Gon parts once more, “Killua, is this okay?” His palms rubbed the sides of Killua’s slightly curved waist to emphasize his point. 

With a shaky breath, “yeah.” Blue eyes, prettier than ever before, peered up at Gon, “It’s okay.”

Frantic fingers unclasped the mage’s dark cloak, brushing it off his shoulders and trailing his fingers down to the hem of his cloth shirt. Their lips met in a chaste kiss one after another, but it still had Gon at a loss of breath. Killua let himself willingly be undressed by the druid, tipping his head back with a blissed-out sigh. Gon took the opportunity to latch his mouth on his neck, sucking to find his sweet spot. 

Legs entangling and fumbling, Gon gently pushed Killua to the bed. The mage let his back fall without restraint on the textured quilts, and the druid wasted no time to crawl on top, encasing him and raising Killua’s arms above his head. Their fingers tangle together in a loose hold. “Are you sure this is okay?” Gon asked, nibbling Killua’s ear with worry. 

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?” Gon said with a smirk, this time, staring at his swollen,  _ tempting _ lips. 

“Yeah,” Killua repeated. 

They made eye contact. Killua-- pink dusting his cheeks, silver hair sprawling out and disheveled on the feather pillows, his bare torso glistening from sweet sweat, and hickeys on his pale neck already bruising. _Oh._ Gon’s heart pounded against his ribcage. “Killua’s beautiful.”

__ Gon slammed his lips against the mage’s before Killua could yell at him for being ‘embarrassing.’ Killua responded in fervent, fingers  _ sinking  _ into Gon’s hair and raking his scalp. The forest elf groaned, slipping his tongue between Killua’s parted lips, fighting for dominance. He tasted sweet, so  _ addictingly sweet _ . 

“Mmm,” Killua gripped Gon’s shirt, “ _ off.” _ He smiled against the kiss. 

With one quick motion, Gon sat up and yanked his shirt over his head, throwing it somewhere on the floor, and continued kissing down Killua’s collar bone, his neck, his jaw, his neck again. The rough pads of Gon’s fingers grazed the other’s firm abdomen, absentmindedly tracing each ridge of lean muscle.

Despite how rushed things felt, neither of them had the confidence to touch lower, neither wanting to break this fragile moment and start all over again. Killua sighed into Gon’s mouth, indicating he felt the same way. Gon was hard, painfully so. This time, he’d move at Killua’s pace and let him decide. 

A flat palm rubbed in circles down Gon’s torse-- all experimental touches. Gon shivered against Killua, burying his nose further where the mage’s neck and shoulders met. Gon had slept with strangers before, but none of them had his heart race like this. Each touch ignited a fire along his skin, engraving Killua’s name with each press of the smooth pads of his slender fingers. 

“Are you nervous?” arose Killua’s whimsical voice.

Gon bit the soft tissue of pale skin to mark another lovebite. “a bit,” he admitted. 

Slowly, gingerly, Killua cupped the other male’s groin, gentle squeezing.

Gon’s breath hitched.

Killua’s fingers trailed up once more, this time, working to fumble with Gon’s belt. The druid lifted his hips to assist Killua, wiggling his pants off. He hovered over the mage, holding eye contact as he tucked his thumbs under the waistband of Killua’s textile pants. Sapphire eyes wavered, drowning in swirling emotion. 

He slid Killua’s pants down, kissing down his chest until Gon was welcomed by Killua’s hard-on. The grey fabric of Killua’s boxers was damp, a bit seethrough even. Gon kissed the head of his cock through the thin, woven cloth. The mage muffled a small, high-pitched sound with the palm of his hand. “Don’t,” Gon removed the hand from Killua’s mouth. “I want to hear.”

The druid yanked the underwear off, guiding it down Killua’s long legs and throwing it on the floor somewhere by the rest of the discarded clothing. Gon’s mouth went dry at the sight of Killua’s exposed body in front of him-- all of it:  _ his _ . 

Delicate touches-- scared that he’d blemish perfection. He remembered the night he traced Killua’s scars with the tips of his fingers, asking if it still hurt. The memories did, is what Killua said in response. Maybe...maybe Gon could fix those scars after all. 

“You don’t have to be so careful,” Killua hummed, his voice quivering slightly.

Gon kissed his inner thigh, spreading his legs apart with large hands. 

“ _ Ah- _ Gon!” The mage attempted to close his legs, but Gon kept them open, “Ugh, how embarrassing,” He muttered.

Gon laughed, “but it’s only me and you here.”

“...still.”

Shaking his head with amusement, Gon nosed further up his thigh, gripping Killua’s waist and pulling the mage’s pelvis closer to him with a satisfied hum. He licked his fingers, and carefully worked them inside of Killua. With a creak in the mattress, Gon loomed over him, watching closely for every tiny gesture and letting it all soak in. The mage writhed, “It feels weird.”

Gon inserted a second finger, a startled yelp sounding from Killua. Finally, he found the small bulb of tissue, caressing it repeatedly. Amidst heavy breathing, Killua moaned. The blessing sound has Gon pause for a fraction of a second, eyes widening in awe and heat circulating his cheeks. But he didn’t dare stare into Killua’s eyes— that would’ve embarrassed him and have him go silent. 

_ But Gods, Gon loves that sound.  _

__ Reluctantly, Gon slid off his last piece of clothing, shifting between Killua’s legs. He glanced up to find Killua staring at this boner with widened eyes. “Killua!” Gon whined, covering himself. 

He snickered, “pff, you’re pent up.” 

“You’re horrible! Now I’m embarrassed.” 

Killua laughed, and Gon pouted with puckered lips. For revenge, Gon gripped Killua’s member, causing breath to catch in the mage’s throat. It kind of backfired, in a way. Gon’s face grew red as he felt it jump in his grasp.  _ Warm _ . 

Slowly, Gon let himself fall onto Killua, chest touching chest, and shoulders touching shoulders. “It’s going to hurt,” Gon breathes into Killua’s nape. 

“ _ Tch _ , don't flatter yourself. I can handle you,” Killua remarked.

Gon grinned, stilling himself above Killua once more and adjusting himself to Killua’s entrance. The druid bit his lip as he pushed past the ring of muscle, shuttering at the slick warmth engulfing his cock. 

Killua tilted his head back, nails scratching down Gon’s back, and he let out a restrained cry. 

He couldn’t think. His mind nearly completely fogged over at the blissful sensation, but Killua...wait, he needs to check if Killua is alright. His first attempt at speech resulted in more of a sound rather than a word. He tried again, “Is Killua alright?”

Killua’s eyes watered slightly from the stretch, “you...can move.” 

Gon bit his lip, leaning close to Killua’s ear, and whispering, “please…”

He paused for breath, his fingers entwining with Killua’s. 

“Marry me.”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Sets fire to computer*
> 
> I HATE writing smut TwT
> 
> Anyway, I'm sorry if it's shit, but thank you for reading this far. I know the slow-burn was killing some of you guys LOL


	11. Finding the Little Havens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m guessing goals don’t matter that much because the endpoint isn’t nearly as awesome as getting there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the daily life of our favorite little family!

  
  


Killua isn’t fluent with the concept of comfortable slumber, or rather, the nightmares that rouse from it. He’d toss and turn night after night. Maybe he’ll kick a blanket off, perhaps he’ll rearrange his pillows, or he’ll give up and start the morning young. But his idea of sleep evolved into something entirely better after his night with Gon. 

Sunlight warmly seeped through the windows, the beam hardly intense. It was the type of subtle light that put a smile on his face, feeling the delicate urge to snuggle further into the linen bed sheets. Bodies unclothed and tangled together, Killua felt Gon’s every breath against his bare back. A firm arm held the mage in place, and warm breath awakened goosebumps across his skin— skin that revealed everything they had done, tingling at the vivid recollection of kisses, bites, and everything in between. Gon spooned Killua the entire night, and not once did a nightmare infiltrate the mage’s unconscious mind. Their fingers stuck together, molding into the shape of interlocked hands, remembering the fungibility of their bodies that released and revealed every pent up desire. 

Killua, with half his face, still smashed into the pillow, continued staring at nothing in particular. Gon said many things that night, some Killua deemed true, others false. Marriage. If he weren’t fucked out of his mind, he would’ve passed out in the spot.  _ Where does Gon come up with these dumb ideas, anyway?  _ Dumb or not, it portrayed that Gon  _ wanted _ to spend the rest of his life with Killua, and that meant everything. The insecurity in him wondered if he asked something similar to anyone else he slept with, unaware of the true meaning behind it. After all, Gon wasn’t one to think ahead, Killua being the designated ‘clean up-his-entire-damn-mess’ person. Killua loves Gon, regardless— that he knew for certain.

His train of thoughts lingered to mere hours before. Gon and he became one— both figuratively  _ and literally.  _ Killua clawed red ribbons down his back, pain, and pleasure never imagining to intermingle. The memory of Gon losing himself, grunting, groaning, and saying the mage’s name in repeat with a wrecked voice has arousal stir and bubble violently in his lower belly. 

Gon let out a sigh behind Killua, further pressing his frame into him and tucking his pointed nose in Killua's neck, inhaling. Killua blushed. A rebellious thumb absentmindedly traced the druid’s palm, savoring each texture and indenture. 

“Mrmm… Killua, what time is it?” 

The mage sighed, dreading movement with every aspect of his being. “Around seven in the morning, I suppose,” he finally answered.

Gon hummed and shifted to bury his face into Killua’s messy hair. The druid’s bed head didn’t look any better, vaguely reminding Killua of a porcupine. He bit back a smile. 

Gon’s movements picked up speed. He splotched warm lips along each ridge of Killua’s spine, pausing, and then relocating to suck on Killua’s sweet spot, which he must’ve memorized from last night. 

A shiver ripples through the mage. “Gon,” he protests weakly, though his body betrays him and leans into his touch. He gasps when Gon wraps his calloused palm around the tip of his cock, gently tugging. Killua grips the bedsheets, biting the inside of his cheek and squeezing his eyes shut. “Gon-“ he repeats himself; his voice trails off in a moan when Gon presses his finger against the slit. 

“How about another round?” the druid whispers in Killua’s ear, his husky voice hoarse but  _ oh,  _ what a wonderful sound. 

Heat raced to Killua’s cheeks, and it took everything in him to restrain from making a desperate high-pitched noise.

He knew he could never say no to Gon. 

Gon, with needy hands, rubbed up Killua’s biceps and placed his hands on each side of the mage, using it to stable himself atop Killua. Lips tenderly brushed against each other and tongues lazily entwined.

Neither of them got out of bed until much later. 

  
  
  
  


It’s been weeks since Gon has returned home with Killua. The cottage remained unchanged, a simple moon-lily garden aligning the front, smoke from the fireplace puffing smoke clouds into the grey sky. It snowed all year round, springtime being a bit lighter, and hazardous snow storms brewing in harsh winters, freezing everything into a wintry crisp. Nonetheless, Killua could never get bored of the sight of sparkling snow and snowflakes landing on his face, splattering white powder akin to sugar across his pinkish cheeks. The shingles were thick and uneven, pointed in a triangle with icicles hanging from the roof. Killua brushes the snow off his feet upon reaching the welcome mat by the doorstep. He grabs a letter dangling from the mailbox, and just as he was about to open the door, Alluka slams it open, startling both males. 

“Where were you?” She demanded, Nanika hiding behind her with a sympathetic look. Alluka’s eyes wandered to Gon, “ _ you.” _

__ Without warning, she pounced on Gon, freezing his feet in ice and fabricating a razored icicle she held at his throat. 

Gon gulped. 

“How  _ dare _ you leave like that?!” She hopped off him and brushed her silken robe off an agitated curl of her full lips, “a simple goodbye would’ve been nice. Geez, I can’t believe  _ I  _ have to lecture you boys on manners.  _ Me _ .  _ Your younger sister! _ ” She clicked her tongue, “anyways, welcome home.” 

Killua sweatdropped. 

_ Maybe Alluka is taking too much after me. _

He glanced over to his right to find Gon quivering in the snow. “What am I getting myself into?” The druid asked, the seams of his mouth crooked with worry.

Killua mused, lending a hand to Gon, “welcome to the family.” The mage’s stops in his tracks.  _ Family,  _ he thinks. He subconsciously follows Gon through the front door, kicking his shoes off. 

“Killua, is something wrong?” Asks Gon.

Killua snaps out of his daze, meeting Gon’s gaze and presenting a heartwarming smile, “No, nothing at all.”

The walls of the living room were painted a dulled green color, leather furniture laid atop a decorative rug that Killua aches to sink his feet into. Alluka added a log to fuel the fireplace and busied herself with preparing a fantastic smelling stew. Killua situated himself at the round, wooden table and picked up the mug filled with hot chocolate, and slipped the warm, sweet liquid down his throat. Exhaling with contentment, Killua began to ponder why he ever left his home. Life seemed perfect. Gon, Alluka, and a place they can all consider home. 

Gon pulled up a chair beside Killua, leaning over and wiping a smudge of whip cream off his cheek like it’s no big deal. 

Killua bristled, but he didn’t bother to shove Gon away or grumble a remark.

Alluka dropped her spoon. She grumbled with an exasperated sigh, “gods, you two had sex, didn’t you?”

All the air sucked out of Killua’s lungs, “What-“

“Yup!” Gon chirped. 

“Gon!?!” Absolutely  _ mortified,  _ Killua smacked the druid across the head, “if you  _ ever  _ get attacked by the wild snow-sabers again, I’m leaving you to  _ die _ .”

Gon pouted, “but she asked-“

“What type of moronic logic is that?!” Killua mocked Gon’s voice, “ _ ‘she asked.’  _ And you’re not supposed to answer!” 

Alluka snickered in the corner. 

“Hey!” Killua pointed an accusing finger in her direction, “you knew exactly what you were doing.”

The girl stuck her tongue out and bounced along to her room. 

The mage narrowed his gaze, bristling, “revenge will come her way,” he vowed in a whisper. 

_ Stupid, stupid, stupid. Don’t get distracted.  _ The Phantom has the tide stone. Killua narrowed his eyes, what a bother. He should bring it to international attention. A band of sociopaths wielding one of the most powerful artifacts isn’t something to take lightly. 

Alluka returned, “it looks like this letter is for you, big brother.” She handed it to him. 

Killua opened the letter sealed with a scarlet stamp. His fingers slid along the seam, pulling out a luxurious golden scroll. His curious eyes trailed across the fine cursive. Clearing his throat, he read aloud, “Dear Killua Zoldyck, the Kakin Empire formally invites you to the capital for the coronation of newly elected archmages.” Killua paused, glancing up to find Gon carefully reading his face. Alluka huddled close to him. “It’d be our pleasure to grant you the title Archmage upon arrival once gearing of your heroic deeds from one of our ambassadors,” Killua’s eyebrows knitted together. “Ambassador?” He questioned. “Who…” it dawned on him. “Kurapika. He must be a Kurta.”

Killua frowned. The public doesn’t know of his participation in the assassination of the archmages. No one besides The Phantom, Alluka, and now Gon. He clenches his fists. That son-of-a-bitch used him. Chrollo played him like a pawn on a chessboard, masking his true intentions by captivating Killua to be blinded by his own curiosity, yet Killua remained ignorant until it was too late. The plan was to assassinate Daika Kurta— not the entire ring of archmages along with the Kurta clan. 

He remembers returning to the sheets of Heaven’s Arena directly after killing his former mentor, a bloodied dagger tucked in the pockets of his cloak along with the mysterious journal. His heart dropped when seeing a once sophisticated society deteriorate in the hands of chaos. Flames arose, walls crumbled, and the screams, the sound of mass murder. Killua wasted no time running to the high palace to warn the circle of archmages.

But there stood the warlock, victorious atop seven limp figures. Neon green magic with the elasticity of slime stuck to their wounds. “Ah, Killua Zoldyck. You made it.” 

The mage narrowed his gaze to a sharp, piercing stare, “what did you do.”

He spread his arms out as if showing off a spectacular display, “I discovered a magic much stronger than the arcane, and I studied it for years, wishing to advance our society.” He took out a black leather book, tossing and catching it on repeat, “but when I presented my studies to the archmages, they simply blew me off. I don’t hold grudges on small things like that, but I decided that having a little fun wouldn’t hurt.”

Energy bursts from Killua, “what type of sick person are you?!”

“I figured you’d understand,” the warlock said nonchalantly, “we’re both killers.” He pointed at Killua’s dagger, fluids of green and red mixing together and dripping onto the once-pristine tile floor. 

“We are  _ not _ the same.” 

_ Oh, really? _ A voice whispered tauntingly in his ear. Killua began doubting himself. 

We will never be the same. 

“Big brother,” Alluka whined. 

Killua snapped back into the present. 

“Are you going to attend?” She asked. 

The mage shrugged, “I should probably attend just to help cover up my past.” He shivered when feeling Gon’s hard stare bore holes into his back, but he didn’t dare look back. He should understand, Killua thought to himself. He prayed Gon did. 

The frost mage bounced up, “take me with you.”

“Not happening.”

“ _ Please _ -“

“No,” Killua finalized.

“I'm  _ tired _ of waiting here for you two to return home like I’m some sort of housewife.” She raised her voice, something she hasn’t done in centuries, “I left the mansion to experience adventure. While I do appreciate living in a nice, cozy home, is it so much to ask for a change every once in a while?” 

She stormed to her bedroom, slamming the door shut. Nanika frowned and followed her. 

Killua winced. It was then he realized he’s mimicked exactly what his family has done to him. He wasn’t any different from them, and that realization stung more than he’d ever begun to imagine. 

Gon put a hand on the former assassin’s shoulder, “Killua-“

His heart clenched, feeling queasy. “No, it’s my fault. I never asked what life she wanted, and just forced her into the life  _ I _ wished for. I’m a horrible sibling.” 

Gon punched him in the head with a bear’s paw. 

“Gon, what the fuck?!” 

“Killua was being stupid!”

“You’re the one who’s stupid, stupid!”

Right as Gon opened his mouth to further insult Killua, a smoke cloud suddenly surrounded him and morphed him into a sheep. 

Speechless, Killua and Gon exchanged glances. 

Alluka stood laughing her ass off right outside her bedroom door, a floating book enhanced by magic in her hand. 

Gon the sheep stomped his hoof, “ _ BAA!” _

__ Killua burst into laughter, clenching his stomach as he bellowed over. 

“Don’t worry, Gon. It’ll only last a few minutes,” she said between giggles.

Gon huffed. 

“Well, big brother, now you owe me.” 

Killua turned to his sister, smiling, “it appears I do.” He shuffled through his pockets, sighing, “it looks like we’ll have to go retrieve some more malerite before the coronation.” He groaned, “ugh, and we just arrived home, too. Oh well, it should be faster than last time.”

The mage hurled an empty sack over his shoulder, swiftly changing his clothing from an indigo cloth turtleneck with a black cloak to a leather green vest with a dark blue scarf. He slipped a new pair of leather boots on and opened the front door. 

Gon-- still a sheep-- trotted through in silence. 

Following Gon outside, Killua closed his eyes and concentrated on opening a portal. Brilliant aqua magic circled his hands and fingers as he silently chanted to himself. Runes of mana circled his feet. Finally, a portal opened, tearing into the dimensions of space to the place he first met Gon. 

He gestured to the druid to go through first. 

“ _ Baa _ !”

“Yeah yeah,” Killua smirked, trailing the sheep through the portal. 

  
  
  
  


Gon’s whine echoed the ominous cave, “being a sheep sucked! It’s humiliating having to be rescued from a puddle of mud!” 

Malerite: a dangerously beautiful crystal, speckles of gold flickering like sparks inside a violet-blue gem. It tinted the pitch-dark cave a shade of purple, the raw energy coming off in waves. Killua worked vigilantly, lithe fingers digging into the soft dirt and cupping the stone. He placed each fragment into his pouch.

“Yeah,” Killua replied absentmindedly. 

“Killua, you’re not listening, are you?”

“Yeah.” 

“Fine,” Gon pouted, “I’ll just go do my own thing.”

“Yeah.” 

Creating light by compressing his mana into a familiar, he ventured further into the cave. His scavenging eyes darted from stone to stone. He decided to collect as much as possible, but not enough to kill him with an explosion if it somehow ignites. 

He shivered at the memory of the last explosion. While he had to get a new pair of pants, it was definitely worth it seeing he met Gon. 

Speaking of Gon, where did he say he was going?

A shrill screech echoed the cave. Killua, without hesitation, bolted to the entrance, throwing his pouch of malerite into his vest pocket. “Gon!” He calls out. 

Finally, he stepped into the light. 

A furious alligator chased Gon as he ran up a tree, clinging to it like a koala. 

Killua pinched the bridge of his nose.  _ Why do I even try? _ “You know, for a druid, you really suck at ‘bonding’ with nature.”

Gon childishly stuck his tongue out. 

Suddenly, the alligator turned to Killua. As if empowering itself, it grew twenty times bigger, casting a shadow over Killua’s figure. 

_ Oh. That is not normal.  _

_ Well, it explains why he was running.  _

__ The mage decided he’d run, too. 

Creating a mirror image to distract the alligator, Killua fled, leaving dust behind his tracks. 

Gon flew through the trees, landing right next to the mage, running. “You know, for a soon-to-be archmage, Killua sure didn’t hesitate to flee.”

“Shut up,” he dodged a branch, glancing behind to see the monstrous alligator still on his trail, “I think we both know that thing is dangerously abnormal.” 

For miles it seems, they continued running. “How is this thing still following us?!” Gon exclaimed.

“Can’t you morph into a bird?!”

“That takes as much time as creating a portal!”

“Then, distract it!” 

“With what?!”

Killua groaned between pants, “I don’t know! Yourself! What were you even  _ doing _ to get its attention in the first place?!”

Gon with puckered lips, “I was making a surprise for Killua.” 

The mage rolled his eyes, “I don’t recall  _ ever _ mentioning I liked alligators the size of a skyscraper.” 

Suddenly, Gon pushed Killua into a nearby hollow and pressed him into the wall.

“Idiot, what are you do-“

The druid put a palm to Killua’s mouth, silencing him. 

He watched with a blush decorating his cheeks and wide eyes as Gon panted with suppressed breaths, watching the entrance covered with dangling vines to see if they lost the creature. The mage tensed when the alligator stomped by, heavy footsteps shaking the forest floor. 

The sound faded into the distance. 

After a moment of fearful listening, Gon let out a heavy sigh of disbelief. He carefully took his hand away from Killua’s mouth. 

The mage stood there in disbelief, mouth tingling from the loss of warmth. Out of nowhere, laughter bubbled in his chest. He began cackling. 

Gon cracked a smile and soon joined in.

“That was the biggest alligator I’ve seen in my life.”

Gon, with a humorous glint in his golden eyes, nodded. 

Laughter dwindling, he stared at Gon’s lips— both of them breathing heavily. Inhaling sharply, the druid slammed his lips into Killua’s. Killua’s eyes squeezed shut and slid up Gon’s shoulders to grip a handful of his thick hair, shivering when the druid bit his bottom lip. 

Killua pulled away, laughing a little when Gon persistently kept kissing him, “wait-“ he clenches his hands around Gon’s compact shoulders when the other kissed along his jaw. “Gon,” he laughed, “wait, we have to get back to Alluka.” 

“Come on, don’t you want it, too?” Hands snaked around Killua’s waist and patted his ass. 

Killua looked into Gon’s eyes, biting back a crooked smile. Gods, he fucking wanted it, but someone had to keep Gon on track of his goals. Feelings and small pleasures can’t always be getting in the way. “Mmmm, maybe some other time.”

Gon understood, “fine,” and then, “Killua, marry me.”

Heat imploded the mage’s face, “W-what!” He shoved his hands in Gon’s face, “don’t joke around like that.”

Gon sulked, “Killuaaaaaaa, I’m not joking.”

Killua steps aside, offering a small smile. “Let’s get back home,” he says and Gon quickly goes back to a smile with a bounce in his every step. 

As Killua opens a portal (this time, to the correct place), he wonders if his hesitation to answer Gon’s question is for his own sake or the druid’s. Maybe, it’s that Killua didn’t trust his own indecisive mind. Currently, he feels so sure that he wants to spend every possible moment with the druid, but will it always be that way? Perhaps it isn’t his indecision that scared him, but Gons. 

Gon, as open-hearted and welcoming as he is— Killua senses the problems with his morality. Gon will overlook stereotypes and one’s past, but if it had any direct interference with his goals, he’s quick to despise them. 

Oh, well. None of that matters as of right now. 

Killua follows Gon back home with a bag full of malerite and cherished memories, and he prays Gon will never stop asking. 

  
  
  
  


It was later that night. A snowstorm’s passing through, frigid air seeping through the cracks of the wood planks and window sills. Killua and Gon faced each other under the fresh bed sheets. They didn’t particularly speak. Gon grabbed Killua’s hand, tenderly threading his fingers between Killua’s, gently squeezing. Smiling, Killua squeezed back until they laid still once more. The mage played with the Druid’s fingers. He whispered, “Gon?”

Gon meets his gaze, golden, amber eyes flitting between Killua’s, “yeah?”

“What is your goal?”

It was dark, and Killua could barely see the gesture Gon made. The forest elf sighed, voice muffled because half his mouth smashed into the pillow, “to avenge me people, but…” he trailed off. 

“But what?” Killua egged on. 

He sighed once more, “I don’t know...it stopped mattering as much to me? When I was stuck at home, or the remnants of it anyway, it’s all I could think about. Part of me thought I’ll never be happy again.” He rolled his eyes, “and then I saw this dumb northern elf fall into a well while getting attacked by a moondust hawk.” 

Killua pinches him and he laughs. 

“I’m guessing goals don’t matter that much because the endpoint isn’t nearly as awesome as getting there.” 

There was another small silence of understanding. Killua let the words sink in, “so this was your endpoint?” 

The druid hummed, “mmm, not yet.” 

“Hmm?” Killua raises a questioning brow. 

“You still haven’t agreed to marry me.” 

The mage rolled his eyes, “only humans do that, though.”

Gon jolts up on his elbow, “but that doesn’t mean we can’t do it!” He protests. 

“But is there a need to?” 

Gon flopped back down, thinking too hard, “I guess not, but I wanna do it anyway.” 

“Just for the journey?” Killua smiles. 

Gon brought Killua’s hands to his mouth, kissing his knuckles with chaste, shivering touches, “just for the journey.” 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a bet with my friend to see how many comments I can get within one chapter of this book-- If it's not too much in the way, could you guys maybe say hi or something? It doesn't have to be something elaborate lol (I just want my money back dsjdnjd)
> 
> ANYWAY, I thought this story was in serious need of a less-actiony chapter, especially with everything that happened LOL. Surprise, I'm working on a short sequel of What Really Matters as well! It'll be dedicated to Fluff_Lover69, Rainyisrad, and everyone else that supported me along the way <3
> 
> I hope you all have a lovely afternoon!


	12. Does It Get Easier?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The frightening thing is, it does."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOOT I'M BACK FROM THE DEAD! Yeah, I dealt with a tragic writer's block, but since I didn't update last week, I'll try posting another chap within this week (hopefully) 
> 
> Pray the writer's block away~ :'3

Something about this ‘coronation’ bothered Gon. The question is, did he not trust the Kakin Empire? Or was it those attending? It’s evident that Killua is wary. Gon side glances across the room, his gaze tracing the former assassin stash steely daggers and bundles of malerite into his backpack. The druid hesitated, “Killua?”

Not looking away from putting on his boots, Killua hummed a questioning response.

“Something isn’t…”  _ Something isn’t right _ , but Killua would call him a blockhead if he admitted it was no more than a gut feeling. “Is- er…”

Killua huffed, stomping his foot, and glaring at the druid, “Gon, just spit it out!”

“Something isn’t right!”

The mage rolled his eyes, “Let me guess, another one of your feelings?” He sighed, “hurry up and get packed, blockhead.”

“Hmph,” Gon pouted, turning his back on Killua and leaving the bedroom.  _ Grumpy meanie. What’s wrong with relying on feeling, anyway?! _

__ He perked upon seeing Alluka leave her bedroom, humming a nursery rhyme perhaps? She tied her hair into a slick ponytail, silver infused with mana dripped akin to raindrops down her silken, transparent cloak. Everything: a dark violet. A pristine headband shaped like moonlilies glistened along with her draping earrings, and her wrist armor swirled ribbons in a hypnotic motion.  _ So this is what a mage looks like. _ “Alluka’s wearing her battle gear?” Gon asked.

“Yes, I have a feeling we’ll run into some trouble, so it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

“...Yeah,” Gon responds.  _ Alluka senses it, too.  _

__ “Nanika, I’m ready!” She calls to the bedroom behind her. 

A shadowy figure wisps behind her, enveloping Alluka in darkness. Gon watched in shock and mild horror. A spawn from the void, right there, in front of him. Shivers rippled down his spine as a terrifying aura crept around the living room. Suddenly, as if someone funneled poisonous gas with a vacuum, Alluka reappeared with a smile, taunting whispers silencing. 

Killua slammed the door open, bristling, “Alluka, what did I say about merging with Nanika in this house! It alerts others within a ten-mile radius!”

Gon frowned. Killua mentioned the problematic birth of the Zoldyck Twins. Something unknown to this day occurred at the time of her birth. It’s assumed a cultist cursed Nanika mere hours post-birth. Nanika and Alluka had the power to merge, but at first, it wasn’t by will. The shadow caster has the infinite power of controlling the void, _the essence of darkness_ _itself_. It became possibly the only thing the Zoldyck Family truly feared. 

Gon lowed his gaze on the frost mage before him. Mito always told stories of the two girls locked beneath the mansion for years in solitary confinement. I guess they all understood the dread of loneliness and the unquenchable urge for adventure,  _ action. _ Alluka and Gon were more alike in that way. She knew what it was like to have too much time on her hands-- too much time to  _ wish or dream.  _ And everything changed with Killua; Gon couldn’t be happier. His goal may have changed, but he still has a wish, a dream;  _ a goal. _

__ His thoughts are interrupted by someone putting his tawny, leather cloak-- the cloak that Killua gave to him the first day they met-- on his shoulders. Pale, slender fingers clasped it around the druid’s neck, fingers he knew all too well, fingers capable of so much destruction, so much kindness, and love. Gon’s heart warmed.

“I know a few people to get you some better gear when we arrive,” Killua’s soothing voice arose in a soft, fleeting whisper. Gon’s skin prickled, and he wondered when Killua began to have that effect on him. Perhaps it was when he first laid eyes on him-- Gon wouldn’t be surprised. 

Gon turned around to the said mage; breath immediately caught in his throat. Killua looked different. His hair, rather than disheveled, is tamed, curled, and appearing as fluffy as clouds. His bangs parted to the side, revealing a sliver of his hidden forehead, but Gon couldn’t begin to comprehend his eyes. It’s a subtle change; a myriad of indigos and purples mixing with his haunting-but-infatuating irises. Gon remembers Killua speaking of the navy robes everyone wore in the floating city of Heaven’s Arena, and now he had a visual representation. Fine linen it is, a small imprint of Heaven Arena’s logo on it-- the cloak no longer draped behind his every-step like Killua always complained about as an apprentice. Black leather boots, pants, and belt-- a belt holding a sack of liquified malerite in vials on one hip and two daggers with creases flowing poison like water through each ridge on the other.

_ ‘It’s not like anyone could take on the most infamous family of assassins along with the most prestigious city of magic in the world at once. I didn’t want that life.’ _

_ ‘...I didn’t know why it was so hard to be normal,’  _ Gon remembers Killua saying. He can still see how sad the mage looked, and Gon  _ knew _ Killua still struggled with that internal conflict to this day. At first, he didn’t fully understand what Killua meant, but all of his actions: his questioning why Gon still stays with him, labeling himself as a killer, his constant need to sacrifice himself to somehow make-up for that past through good deeds, and most of all, the care-free life he gave Alluka. All of those actions made Gon understand. And despite the strange, unsettling feeling he has behind the mere mention of the coronation, he knew it would be better for Killua.

None of them packed much as they left out the door. Killua took a small backpack, and Alluka was the only one to carry a small suitcase. Gon didn’t have many possessions, anyway.

Within no time, Killua opened a portal to York New. 

Gon asks, “Why doesn’t Killua just make a portal to the capital of the Kakin Empire?” 

“Because they don’t allow unmonitored transportation,” Killua responds.

Gon doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to traveling through portals. The sudden climate change always sent shivers down his spine, reminding him of the eclipses he’d watch aside his aunt. York New always seemed to have this stagnant, humid climate. The town’s always lively, chatter chatter chatter constantly lingering the air. They walk along the cobbled streets, passing Town Square where he first met Leorio, passing the inn that Killua and he spent their first night together, and passing the harbor that started it all. As they came across the orphanage, kids laughed and squealed, jumping and running around the fountain placed in the middle of the clearing.

_ There are so many of them. _ Gon frowned. 

Suddenly, two boys came up to Alluka, shoving each other playfully. They couldn’t have been older than fourteen. One boy, with scruffed brown hair and big hazel eyes, cleared his throat, “Miss Alluka, can you make it snow again?”

Alluka put her hands on his hips, “you know the magic words.”

“Abra Kadabra?”

The other boy jabbed him, “She means please, idiot.”   


Giggling, Alluka casts swirls of frost magic, pebbles of snow, chilly air, and icy sliding beneath their feet. 

The boys laughed, one of them opening their mouth and letting snow land on the pallet of his tongue. 

“Marry me, Miss Alluka,” said the brunette, crouched on his knees with begging eyes.

She put a finger to her lips, “sorry, not this time!” before skipping to Killua, who paced a few meters ahead. 

“Did you see how pretty Alluka looked today?”

“She’s never going to marry you, dude.”

“You don’t know that!”

“Do too.”

Gon smiled at the small skirmish behind him. He pondered whether Alluka had anyone other than Nanika after his aunt’s death and when Killua’s called to action. He worried that she was lonely all of those years, but it seems she has others looking out for her. 

Killua cleared his throat, “Now known as Old Town, this place used to be York New City’s Town Square.”

Each stone beneath Gon’s feet is brown, a rusty discoloration, each mismatched from the other. It’s quieter here, only a few mercenary shops open along with a restaurant every now and then. Clouds covered the bright blue sky and the blazing sun bleached the wooden, creaky doors that swung open at the gentle breeze of an abandoned building. 

“Scarlet Flu wiped out seventy-five percent of the population because children were the only ones that were immune to it. This place has been abandoned ever since,” Killua sighs, “but the tram stayed here.”

Gon nodded attentively as they walked down a steep ramp leading to a dim tunnel. The whole place impersonated the beginning of industrialization, metal walls and flooring with large, hexagonal bolts that corroded over time. The screech of the steel railing and the horn of the tram echoed from miles away down the dark tunnel. 

The tram arrived, and all three of them boarded. Alluka took a seat while Killua stood holding on to a metal pole.

_ It’s empty. Weird. _

Suddenly, the train took off at an alarming speed.

Killua clears his throat, “The Kakin Empire pledged its allegiance with the Alliance, but they also have strong connections to the Horde. Many assume it to be contested territory.” He glowers at Gon, “so don’t do anything stupid.”

Alluka salutes, “Aye aye archmage sir!:

Killua jabs her.

_ Contested territory, huh _ . Killua’s right, any mistake may cause an entire war at hand. It can lead to an entire country turning against their faction. Gon focused his gaze on the weaponry clinging to Killua’s belt. He had a feeling they were entering a blood bath. 

They arrived in the capital no longer than thirty minutes from the time they stepped afoot the train. Gon assumed it to be mid-afternoon, the orange-ish sun touching the horizon. The entire city felt...darker. Homeless lined the streets, begging for bread, shutters struggled to hang onto the uneven brick homes, and a black castle hid behind the clouds which clung close to the surface. 

A carriage arrived, unblemished by the poverty of the surrounding city. Metal curled into intricate designs, and Gon only stared in horror, feeling like he’s betraying all of those staring-- staring in hate, envy, and helplessness. He leans over to whisper into Killua’s ear, “has it always been like this?”

The mage frowns, “...no.”

The ride was silent, the only sound being the bumps on the lump road, and horses protesting against the courier. Dread clung to the air.

When they stopped, they heard a call, “Killua Zoldyck arrived!” 

“Open the gates!”

“Clear the path!”

The courier, wearing all black, opened the door, helping each of them out, but Gon declined. It didn’t feel right, being treated luxuriously without deserving it. Breath caught in his throat at the palace before him. The front door must’ve been  _ at least _ 10 meters tall. Alluka gasped when the doors swung open, knights lining up to salute them as they ambled past. Torches lined the walls, coated in gold. 

A familiar figure stood at the end of the hallway, awaiting their arrival in a tuxedo and hands shoved in his pockets. 

Gon’s expression lit up, “Kurapika!”

He smiles, “Greetings, Gon.” His expression turns serious, facing one of the knights adjacent to him, “I’ll escort them from here,” as he takes out a badge from his suit’s front pocket. 

They begin trudging the solitary halls, passing doors that all appeared the same, and Kurapika carried a torch with floating magic, the flames flickering and crackling. 

The blonde’s vacant gaze meets Killua’s, a thick tension engulfing the air.

“I see you’re working for the Kakin Empire now?” Killua speculates, eyebrows furrowing.

“It’s merely an internship.”

_ Did something happen while he was away?  _ Gon thinks.

Killua clicks his tongue, “You have some nerve-”

Kurapika interrupts him, “I’m sorry. I’m not here to cause trouble.”

Killua doesn’t relent, so the blonde continues, “... or for any personal means. As you’ve probably figured out, the city has changed drastically, and I’m here disguising as a bodyguard to collect intel on the rumors of illegal trading and use of magic.”

They halted at a door, and Kurapika gave each one of them a key, “You’ll be staying here during your visit.”

Cheering, Alluka unlocked the door, barging in and holding her arms out wide, “Whoa, so pretty!” she pounced on the white microfiber couches, sinking her feet into the furry, scarlet rug.

Gon meandered the suite, a charming place it is. He glanced behind him to see Kurapika lean outside the door, directing his stern expression towards Killua.

“You’re not going to try and settle the scores for the incident at Heaven’s Arena?” Killua asks in a hushed voice. 

The blonde tensed, “...No. It’s best to look ahead rather than dwell on the past.”

Gon smiles to himself. It’s good to see Kurapika recovering from self-loathing, at least, in some form or another. 

Kurapika clears the croak from his throat, “The coronation is at noon tomorrow. You’re expected to attend the High Council meeting directly after.” He sent an apologetic frown towards Gon, “sorry, but only the newly appointed archmages along with the chair members can attend.”

“What? Oh, that’s not a problem,” Gon replies sincerely.

Kurapika smiles and bows to dismiss himself. 

When the door clicks shut, Killua takes out an antique stopwatch looped around his neck, “I’m going to search the library for any ‘history’ regarding the Heaven’s Arena incident. It’d be nice to know who they’re blaming in the books to prevent any unwanted surprises.” He exchanges a glance with Alluka and Gon, “Any of you want to come?”

Alluka, already in her silken sleepwear, combed her long hair in smooth, hypnotic strokes, “I think I’ve had enough excitement for the day. Nanika isn’t big on travel, anyway.”

“I’ll go,” says Gon.

The former assassin smiles. He turns to his sister, “remember, don’t do anything stupid to alert others--  _ like splitting with Nanika. _ ” voice turning to a grumble, “I’m already sick of these dumb nobles.”

Snickering, Alluka waved them goodbye. 

Killua and Gon, once again, leave Alluka to fend for herself.  _ But she isn’t lonely _ , Gon tells himself.

“Did something happen between Killua and Kurapika?” Gon asks once they reach the far end of the hallway, forcing his legs to walk faster to keep up with Killua’s pace.

The mage slows, leaning his head back against his arms. Black eyelashes flutter, lids falling halfway as he stares into the corners of the darkened hallway, the abyss. “Yeah, I saw Kurapika at Leorio’s and punched him right in the jaw. A little dispute carried on from there.”

“Oh… Kurapika seems to manifest his magic into fire.”

Killua hums, “It was more popular back in the day. Fire magic requires immunity-- which not many have-- while the arcane focuses on strategic and timely fights. I taught Alluka frost magic because it has the least risk.”

They arrive at the front doors of the library. When they open the doors, Gon gasps.

Books, books, and more books towered to the sky, some floating, some not. A large skylight laid overhead, displaying shimmering stars in the night sky. The glossy, tile floor glowed by the reflection of the moonlight. Gon meandered curiously, grazing the lines of books with his fingers and flicking off the gathering dust.

“This reminds me of the libraries back at Heaven’s Arena,” Killua whispered.

The mage busied himself quickly, casting levitation on numerous books, speed reading, and placing them back. Gon, after several minutes, grew bored. Killua sent annoyed glares the druid’s way when he found himself anxiously tapping his feet.  _ What is there to do? _ He didn’t want to explore because of the feeling of turmoil weighing down his stomach. He stood up, sauntering towards Killua and leaning over his shoulder, smirking, “so… now that we’re alone.”

Killua puts his pointer finger to Gon’s lips, pushing his face away. “We have to  _ concentrate.  _ Geez, you always get distracted…” The mage trails off when noticing the druid wander away to the glass balcony. “ _ Stupid _ ,” he mutters to himself. 

Gon opens the glass doors, a sudden gust of wind blowing his hair back. He always enjoyed staring at the stars when he felt lonely; he always felt some  _ connection _ to them. He’ll notice how they look different in every city or continent he crosses, but they’re always the same stars, and that reassures Gon. His eyes trace a star shining alone next to the moon. “Mito,” he calls out. 

The song of nature replies, branches of tall trees swaying and leaves swirling. A peculiar flower falls onto the palm of his hand, purple, but spiky. A light scratch dripped minuscule droplets of blood. 

Curious eyes dart from corner to corner to see which plant grew such a flower. Promptly, he notices a northern elf, alone. She had short hair, cut perfectly straight across, and it was the color of Alluka’s: a blackish color with a light tint of purple, and her pale skin shone. She couldn’t have been any older than Alluka.

Determined, Gon morphed into a feline and dropped to the ground, landing on his feet flawlessly. Then, he reverted to his original form, ambling towards the girl.

“Who are you?” She asks in a demanding tone, holding her position from turning to Gon. A paper fan rocked elegantly. The druid had to squeeze his eyes shut to prevent himself from being hypostatized by it.

“I’m Gon,” he answers.

Silence.

The leaves rustled, and suddenly, the girl turned around the face Gon, upturned, inquisitive eyes the color of cherry blossoms, sharp like Killua’s…  _ and unapproachable.  _ A glimmer caught the druid’s eye, a silver pendant-- like the one Killua has. 

“Nightshade,” the girl says, breaking eye contact to once more stare at the flower before her, “it’s used by alchemists to create sleeping poisons. It’s my mother’s favorite flower.”

Gon takes a step forward, carefully as if the girl would run away. “Well, they’re very pretty.”

Pink dusted the girl’s cheeks.

_ Is she a Zoldyck, too? How many siblings does Killua have? He did mention an older brother. Should I warn Alluka and Killua? No, she doesn’t seem the slightest bit hostile, maybe skittish, but not hostile _ . Right before Gon opened his mouth to ask what her name was, a powerful bell sounded from a nearby bell tower, ringing midnight.

“Goodbye,” she said, and before Gon could reply, she disappeared into the shadows. 

Sighing in defeat, Gon faced the flower once more. Brambles surround it, curling the alluring flower with serrated thorns. A tiny black spider caught his eye, crawling up the stamen with long, fragile legs. He watches as it climbs on the surface of the petal, moving its pinchers curiously, he watches as its legs go stiff, fighting against the powerful sap secreted by the flower; he watches as the spider shrivels up, wadding into a ball and falling limp. 

He watches it. Lifeless. Dead. 

  
  


~*~

  
  


Butlers held the door open, bowing to each of their guests, their pose inviting those in. Gon walked beside Alluka, who gawked at all of the pleasing decorations: the diamond chandelier, the velvet carpeting, the golden chairs, the crystal tile floor-- it reminded the druid of a theater. Guests took their seats, and as the room dimmed, noisy chatter dwindled to an echoed rumble. 

_ ‘Turns out they covered up the incident at Heaven’s Arena. Probably worried about it being shameful to the country's authority,’ _ he remembers Killua saying. 

_ Shameful, huh? _ Gon could think of numerous other current problems within this country that could be considered ‘shameful.’

Four individuals peered on stage: Killua, two other elves, and the human king, Tserriednich.

“Why are they all elves?” Gon asks.

Alluka shrugs, “We live over ten times longer than humans. That alone is the reason.”

The king, with his shining crown and black royal mantle, raised his arms, “Welcome, all of you, to the coronation of three qualified mages we’re lucky to have here today. They have all diligently worked their way to reach public acknowledgment, and each of them trained under archmages in this very city.”

Gon hated every word that came out of the King’s mouth. He hated his false authority, the wrongness of it all. Tserriednich. Gon can tell every word he said was a lie. Maybe that’s what’s wrong with the Kakin Empire: the lies. 

“Lastly, Killua Zoldyck. It’s as if pure arcane energy flows through him.”

Killua tenses and Alluka flinched. The air turned sinister, and Gon’s blood ran cold. 

“Skipping from an apprentice to an archmage is something remarkable. Though, I’m sure many of you would agree that it’s well deserved. A round of applause for Archmage Killua Zoldyck!”

Gon fiddled with his fingers warily as Killua stood with wide eyes and mouth agape in horror, but a moment later, Killua snapped out of it, forcing a smile and bowing. Applause erupted from the audience and the overhead lights dimmed. The druid smiled, clapping for Killua, but now he knew something was off, and that something may be the new heir to the throne.

Alluka and Gon exited amongst the crowd. They made their way towards the backstage to congratulate Killua, but two guards stood in their way. ‘We’re guests of Archmage Killua Zoldyck,” Alluka declares.

“Sorry, ma’am. A meeting’s goin’ on, and it can’t be interrupted,” said the guard in all black plate armor. 

Gon turns to Alluka, “Oh yeah, Kurapika mentioned something about that.”

She shrugs, “Okay, thanks for your help, sir.”

“Anytime.”

They decide to return to their room. The halls emptied within a matter of minutes, which duly surprised Gon. The walk was silent, and it made Gon realize that he’s never been alone with Alluka. At least, not often. The mage beside him sucked in a breath, “I often miss Mito.”

“Yeah,” Gon sighed, lowering his gaze to stare at the ground, “me too.”

Suddenly she stopped, and the druid stared at her quizzically. She scuffled through her bags and pulled out a book, handing it to Gon, “Here. She gave this to me before she escaped the estate.”

Gon smiled. He gently touched the book, feeling all the textures of the hardcover. He reminisces about the times he’d meditate and Mito would hum a lullaby, writing in a leather book just like this one. He shook his head, pushing the book towards Alluka, “No. She’d want you to have it.”

Alluka’s eyes widen in shock, and her lips curve to a sincere grin. Nodding, she placed the book back in her bag. 

The moment disappeared when Alluka shook herself like a dog, throwing a fist to the air, and her eyes glimmered with determination, “Enough of that. Let’s explore!”

“Yeah!” Gon agreed. 

They ran down the halls, jabbing each other here and there and giggling. 

“Now,” she says between breaths, “that looks like a promising hallway for adventure!”

A sickening stench embraced Gon’s sensitive nose. Darkness encroached every corner of the hallway. ‘ _ Look away. Look away _ ,” said fleeting whispers. 

“ _ Why would you trust him?” _

_ “He’s a killer.” _

_ “They’re coming. All of them!” _

__ Gon covered his ears, his vision blurring in spurts. 

Someone waved a hand in front of him, “Gon! Are you there?” 

He snapped back into reality.

Alluka eyed him, concerned.

“I’m not sure Killua would like this,” He proclaimed weakly. 

She rolled her eyes, “which is why he isn’t here right now.” She skips down the stairs, darkness enveloping her figure from Gon’s sight.

Hesitant, Gon follows.

The sound of each footstep bounced between stone walls. The pathway is uneven, a brick out of place here and there. Alluka trudged a couple of feet ahead, using a spell he’s seen Killua use to light the way. Shivers pricked up his spine. Gon didn’t like this place. No, not in the slightest. 

How deep are they in this dungeon that resembled the cataclysms? A mile? Two miles? There’s no say, but it had to be leading to something, and Gon feared it wasn’t something they’re meant to find.

Metal clanked ahead of them, screaming an echo. Alluka instantly puts the light out and shoves Gon behind a nearby intersection. 

“Do you think the shipments are going to be delayed?” said a man’s voice. 

Another responded, “The boss said the prince... er- king wants to delay the Horde’s arrival with the Zoldycks here.”

Gon’s breath hitched, and Alluka promptly covered his mouth with her palm, warning him with pleading eyes to keep quiet. 

The voices grew closer by the moment, “you mean the Archmage?”

“No, dumbass, the young one. The one we hired in The Phantom!”

“Quiet down!” One seethed.

“Well, you weren’t getting the concept through your thick head.”

The footsteps faded in the distance. Gon waited a moment longer before whispering, “there’s a Zoldyck in the Phantom?”

Alluka, perturbed, glanced to the side, “I don’t know… We need to tell Killua right away.”

The druid gave her a hard stare, “We should venture further. They’re hiding something.”

Her eyes flitted between Gon’s, “okay.”

Gon peeks his head around the corner. Upon seeing that the coast’s clear, he sprints down the narrow tunnel-- Alluka directly behind him. 

The Phantom, the Zoldycks,  _ and _ the Horde-- all involved. Not good.

They stepped afoot in a pitch-black room. Alluka, behind him, casts a spell to mass-light all of the candles. 

Alluka gasps. 

Beakers, mortars-and-pestles, towering rusty frames-- it was a lab of some sort. Neon green liquid oozed from vials and dripped on the stone-cold floor. It reminded Gon of the conversation with that girl in the garden about nightshade. But what are they producing here? 

Metal screeched overhead, startling Alluka and Gon. They both got into a defensive position.

A rat emerged, beady eyes scavenging for scraps.

Alluka let out a relieved sigh.

Smoke evaded Gon’s nostrils. Was something burning? He followed the stench to a well that spiraled with green bubbling liquid, and memories, memories he buried in the depths of his consciousness, flooded his mind. 

“Get out of here. Run!” said a dying sentinel with bloody glaives and uneven breaths.

Tears rushed down his cheeks, “the tree, our home, what happened to it?”

The woman before him died before she could answer, and she didn’t need to. Gon had eyes, but the sight was excruciating. He squeezed his eyelids shut, covering his ears to mute the screams. 

_ Whispers whispers whispers, please, leave me alone.  _

_ “You know who’s responsible for the pain.” _

__ “Gon.”

_ “The book. The book has answers.” _

__ “Gon.”

_ “Look away.” _

__ “Gon!”

The druid snapped out of his haze, “Huh, what?”

“Are you sure you’re okay? I called your name _ three _ times,” Alluka pouted.

“Yeah,” he dismisses, “I’m fine, but this well… it looks like a portal to another world or dimension.”  _ It looks like the Nightwell,  _ Gon thinks,  _ but instead of pure mana it’s… this. _

__ They stared at the gooey liquid, wrinkling their noses in disgust. 

Suddenly, a loud creak sounded from the wooden ceiling, and a figure leaped on Gon, swiftly holding a knife to his throat. Another man appeared from the shadows, grabbing Alluka by the neck. 

Blood leaked in an undisturbed stream down Gon’s neck. He watched with frightened eyes as Alluka struggled against the man. She attempts to cast a spell, but the man tightened his grip around her throat, canceling any form of speech. The druid watches Alluka’s legs flail helplessly, anger boiling in his blood. 

“Aw, are you upset we’re keeping ahold of your little girlfriend?” Hissed the man holding the knife to Gon’s throat. The rotten smell of his breath wafted over Gon, his eyes beady and menacing. 

The man spun around, slashing Gon’s hind legs and pushing him on the ground. The druid yelped, his head falling on the stone-cold floor. “You’re weaker than you look. What are you doing around a _ Zoldyck _ ?”

“Shut up!” Gon yelled. His body molded into a bear, a silhouette towering over the man who now stared in horror. Claws, sharp as steel, sank into flesh, shredding his legs into paper-like scraps. The victim screamed in agony, but Gon blocked the sound out, continuously lashing out. 

That’s when he noticed Alluka’s gone completely silent. He whips around to see her on the verge of passing out, but before he could reach the one gripping her neck, she fell limp.

“Alluka!”

Darkness darkness darkness creeps up her figure, shadows seeping out of her eyes, nose, mouth until it enveloped her entire frame. 

_ Shit. _

__ Nanika opens her eyes, and the power of her devastating aura has the man drop to his knees; even Gon’s body froze with fear. With torn up legs, the other man desperately attempted to crawl away. “ _ Moor ni dab lla llik,”  _ whispers Nanika, each syllable echoing over each other. A shadowy hand, the size of a giant, grabbed the man crawling, crushing him against the brick wall-- killing him instantly.

Next, she turned to the man who choked her, a wicked smile spreading from cheek to cheek. And within a second, he was wrung to death like a dirty rag, limp on the floor. Lifeless. 

The insanity of Nanika dwindled-- her figure now a mere tint of Alluka’s frame. “Gon?” Nanika calls, but Gon doesn’t respond. He stared at the dead before him.

“Gon, did I do good?”

Shaking his head to break out of his daze, Gon nods, patting Nanika a few times on the head. “Nanika did good, but we need to leave before the guards make it down here.” Killua’s right. He bets it alerted those  _ at least _ within a ten-mile radius.

Gon sneaks a final glance at the man smashed against the wall, his legs mangled. His eyes narrow. He used to wonder how those who fight in war kill so easily.

_ ‘Does it get easier?’ _ He’d ask himself.

Nodding to Nanika, they exited the dungeon, leaving the crime scene behind them.

_ The frightening thing is, it does. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm honestly surprised all of you read this far! (Especially when it had such a slow beginning) Anyway, I'm hoping my writing is (or will) improve over time-- kinda hating my old content lol, but if you could give some feedback, that'd be super helpful! (And don't worry, it can be negative lol.)
> 
> I hope you all have a great day!


	13. Maybe The Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The heart of the Tide Crystal is in her hands now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did it! I updated this week >:3
> 
> So far, I've been honoring my weekly update promise hehehe

  
  


Boring. These council meetings haven’t changed a bit. Killua lets out a long, drawn-out sigh. He tapped his quill anxiously. All five archmages are seated at a rectangular table, some familiar, some not. Well, he knows they aren’t the archmages from Heaven’s Arena. Chrollo standing over the ring of bodies evaded his mind. Killua grimaced. 

“Killua Zoldyck, is something bothering you?”

He rolls his eyes, “As a matter of fact, yes. Do any of you  _ realize _ the state of this country as of currently?”

Shiota, an archmage Killua’s vaguely familiar with, hastily stood from his seat, “I’d think carefully about the words that come out of your mouth next.”

“Why, are you gonna finish me for good this time?” Killua shoots back. 

The other froze. 

_ Pff, figures.  _ Shiota may have not been particularly significant in Killua’s past, but he was surely a part of it.

Coughing as if reclaiming his dignity, Shiota seats himself. “We’d like you, Killua, to join the Kakin Empire,” he says.

Killua formally declines, “Sorry, but I can’t get involved with a contested territory that’s so heavily targeted by both factions without permission of the Alliance king.”

Another scoffs, muttering something similar to, “Relying on humans-”

Killua pointed his glare, needle-sharp. “My beliefs and decisions are my own, and that is final.”

Silence lingered in the room.

Since the beginning of the coronation, Killua felt Shiota’s eyes boring into his back and tracing his every move. The former assassin wasn’t dumb enough to not recognize the mage stalking him while in the library, either. It’s not Killua’s fault his lover dumped him. Killua could  _ still _ remember that annoying redhead pestering nearly every time he walked to the library, to his room--  _ everywhere! _

One day, an elf with tan skin and slick brown hair stood in the way. “stay away from Cookie,” he demanded.

“Move,” he attempts to bypass th _ e  _ other, yet the elf only stands in Killua’s way once more. “Who’s that?” Killua questioned half-heartedly. He really didn’t give a damn, and who names their child  _ Cookie?  _

“The girl with beautiful red hair and-”

Killua interrupted him, “I’d gladly stay away, but that moron follows me everywhere I go. If you can get her to screw off, I’ll be thankful.”

Shiota lunged at him, but Killua pinned him to the wall, putting a wand to his neck, “I’ll say it one more time. Move, or I’ll kill you both.”

_ ‘You’re becoming an Archmage? I know your true colors,’  _ Shiota had said mere minutes before the coronation.  _ It’s in the past _ , Killua tells himself. Just because he tries to forget, it doesn’t mean he doesn’t have to deal with the remnants of it— of Heaven’s Arena and everyone involved, of his family, and the harm he’s done that lengthened the world war. 

Suddenly, as if a bomb had just fallen on the city, a sinister aura implodes, prickling up Killua’s spine and stunning all of those around him. His eyes widened in shock, pupils contracted, and staring at the center of the table. 

_ Nanika. _

_ Something’s wrong. _

__ Shiota is quick to respond. He reaches for his wand, but the ex-assassin is quicker, wielding a dagger to his head. The other members rise from their seats; Killua knocks them back in an arcane blast. “Cast something; he dies. Interrupt me; he dies. Now, sit down and put your hands on the table.”

_ Well, so much for keeping a low profile. _

The others complied.

Bloodlust oozed from Shiota. He voiced out through grinding teeth, “you brought that here?! I  _ knew _ you didn’t change.”

“Shut up.” Killua dug the tip of his dagger into his scalp, “It’s my sister. She’s in trouble, and if I find out that one of your men did something to her, you’ll be making a formidable adversary.” 

Another one of the archmages rises slowly, surrendering his hands. She speaks with caution in every syllable, “we won’t harm your sister. Just, remove the knife from-”

“He’s practicing demonic magic.”

Shiota stiffened. 

A haunting smile curled Killua’s lips, “Oh, you thought I wouldn’t notice.” He kicks behind the other’s knees, him crashing to the floor and Killua holding his wrists together. 

__ “How-“

“The stench of it gives me a headache, and you seemed to have spilled some on your clothing.” Killua rips the cloak off, revealing green goo clinging to linen cloth. Gasps are heard across the room. The former assassin brushes the dust from his clothes and peers to the others, “take care of him for me. I need to check if my younger sister is okay, and I arrived here with a forest elf. If I don’t find him with me, I want you to grab him, too.”

Killua raced out the door, bypassing the guards, and rushing to their room. 

That idiot, Gon! He had  _ one _ job, but what does he do? Alert the entire fucking empire. How is he going to explain to King Netero that he threatened to  _ kill  _ an archmage? 

_ By explaining fel. _

But that would be a last resort. He’s only able to identify the demonic arts because of Chrollo, and speaking of that incident could cause an entire war right then and there.

Killua slams the door open of their assigned room. He noticed Gon and Alluka in the clearing. Gashes of red dripped down the back of Gon’s thighs while a wicked, darkening bruise clawed across Alluka’s neck.

Frantic, the druid sputtered out, “Killua, I’m sorry. We-“ 

“ _ Roshke!”  _ Killua blasted him with a spell, knocking him a few meters back, smoke arising from his burning palms.

__ Clouds engulfed Gon’s figure. A black sheep emerged, snarling, “baa!”

Killua, his gaze icy, dismissed it, “shut up.” He turns to Alluka, his expression: demanding. “What the hell was that eruption?! What happened?!” 

“Baa!”

“I said,  _ shut up!” _

The polymorphed druid goes quiet. 

Alluka, a bit startled, began explaining, “we got ambushed while exploring-“ 

Suddenly, a flat palm collided with her face. The slap of skin echoing the now-silent room. Killua, furious, put his hand back in his pocket while Alluka stared in shock, eyes glossy with water and eyebrows scrunching with hurt. 

He never hit Alluka before, but she’s too naive. 

“Big brother-“ her voice. Broken. 

“I’m sending you home,” the archmage finalized.

“What?! That’s unfair! I-“

“You what? Can defend yourself? Your childish curiosity might bring an entire war at hand. Do you realize how many people  _ die _ on the battlefields due to a lack of trust between countries?! Does ‘defending yourself’ count as summing Nanika?!  _ All  _ of the archmages  _ know _ , and I can’t just  _ convince  _ them that Nanika is a  _ ‘friendly’  _ spawn from the void.” 

Her mouth falls open at the sudden outburst, tears soundlessly streaming down her face as eyes flitted between Killua’s. 

The archmage, sympathizing, pats her head. His heart drops when seeing her wince at his applied touch. He lowered his voice to a soothing but melancholy volume, “remember, it isn’t about what’s right or wrong in war. It’s… it’s all about power.”

She fixes her gaze on the porcelain floor, nodding with hesitance. “Sometimes,” she whispers, “even the kindest are feared most.” Alluka’s eyes widen as if suddenly remembering something. She peers up to meet Killua’s gaze, “we found something suspicious.”

The former assassin raises an eyebrow, gesturing with his hand for her to continue. 

“A lab of some sort. It seemed to manufacture poisons and this weird magic. It’s all green and slimy,” she scrunched her nose in disgust. 

His eyes widened.  _ Manufacturing it?  _ He glowered. This is worse than he thought. “Where was this?” 

She puts a thoughtful finger to her chin, “a dungeon of some sort. Underground.” 

It must be a crucial aspect to the suspected illegal trading within the empire’s undercity, Killua thinks. Ugh, all this thinking is making his head hurt, but no other blockhead is going to do it. He doesn’t exactly want to get on the Kakin Empire’s bad side. The defense itself isn’t a problem— nor the inhabitants, but the close connections with the High Council… forget it. That’s equivalent to challenging the entire Zoldyck household at once—  _ including _ those working there. “And you were both caught. By who?” Killua questions. 

The young mage dips her head down, “they’re dead now…” 

“You killed them?! What are we going to do when the loyalists find we  _ killed-“ _

__ Alluka cuts him off, defending herself, “it was for self-defense!”

“That  _ doesn’t  _ matter!”

“Baa!”

“Shut up!” Both siblings yell. 

Killua and Alluka turn to one another with wide eyes. A smile cracked on their lips, laughter breaking free. Gon stared in dismay as Alluka hurled over and gasped for air. Upon regaining his breath, Killua pitied the druid and undid the spell. 

Gon reappeared in his usual form, eyes narrowed and pouting with crossed arms. “You both are  _ mean!” _

Killua raised a bemused brow, “it’s one of the first spells all mages learn. You should really learn how to counter it.” 

The druid childishly stuck his tongue out, grumbling, “dumb mages.”

“Polymorph him again?” Killua questions Alluka. 

A smirk curled her lips, “oh yeah, for sure.” 

Gon falls to his knees, spurting a chorus of whines and pleas, but Killua grins and ignores him, gaze once more fixed on his sister. He cleared his throat, “I’m sorry, but I’m still sending you back. We need to inform the Alliance King that there’s a warlock amongst the High Council. The Kakin Empire may be using that green magic as a new weapon. I’ll check the black market sometime tomorrow.”

Understanding, Alluka nodded solemnly. 

“And you,” Killua turns to Gon, who stiffed in horror, “I need you to take me to the lab when I get back, and for the love of God,  _ don’t go anywhere!” _

__ The druid sweat-drops. 

Killua watches Alluka’s figure disappear behind the bedroom door. He knows she never wanted this, and he understands the desire to be normal, but that’s something she’ll have to face alone.  _ I’m sorry, Alluka. I’m doing this to protect you.  _ He whispers, “Do you think she’ll hold it against me?”

A warm, comforting palm rests on his shoulder, and Killua could feel the tension float away. “I think she understands more than Killua thinks,” Gon whispers back. 

The mage smiles and leans into Gon’s embrace, feeling sturdy arms wrap around his frame, feathering his shivering skin. The toasty breath against his nape, devoting itself to an unchanging rhythm as Killua leans in for more. He inhaled the scent of Gon— the scent of pine that still seems to linger despite the absence of living in the forest. 

Killua forces himself to break away before Alluka returns. “How about we hit the bar tonight,” he says to Gon. 

The said one presents a toothy grin, “yeah, we haven’t done that in a long time!”

“Too long,” Killua agrees. 

Alluka, with her hair bundled in a ponytail and a suitcase trailing behind her, exits the room. “I’m ready, big brother!” 

The archmage nods, ambling to the front door with his hands in his pockets, “Gon, remember not to burn the place down.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Killua blasts the druid through the wall.

  
  
  
  
  


It’s noisy-- much louder than the corresponding station back in Old Town. Men and women alike with tattered clothes and scruffed-up hair shoved their way past the Zoldyck siblings, mumbling quick apologies and sprinting towards the departing tram. Alluka, suitcase by her side, stared into the distance, saddened. 

“Say hi to Leorio for me,” Killua tries to smile. 

Alluka nods, turning her back towards her brother to board the train. 

“Wait,” the archmage grabs her arm.

“Big brother?”

He shuffles inside his cloak’s silken pocket and latches into a necklace. He gingerly opens his sister’s hand and drops the object on her palm. 

Crystal blue eyes glistened, widening in awe. 

“Each archmage receives an artifact during their coronation,” Killua shrugs, feigning nonchalance. He smiles, “it seems more like a girl thing, anyway.” 

Alluka let the necklace dangle by its silver chain. Diamonds encrusted a heart around a sea-blue diamond, possibly the biggest one she’s ever seen. It reminded her of the ocean, the waves— the heart of the tides. 

“Whatever you do, protect it at all costs.” 

She crushes Killua into a hug, “thank you.” 

Letting his frame relax, he pats the young mage tenderly on the head. Treading fingers into sleek, ebony hair, he whispers, “maybe I can teach you some more when I return home.”

“That’d be great.” She removes herself from Killua and brushes her wrinkled clothing until smooth again. With an affirming huff, she grabs the suitcase and boards the train. “Bye!” She calls as doors slowly close. 

Killua smiles, waving until the tail of the train disappeared in the distance. He drops his facade in an instant, eyes pensive with a deep frown scrunching his skin. 

_ The heart of the Tide Crystal is in her hands now.  _

__ When Feitan lost control, lashing out everywhere on a sociopathic rampage, Killua barely managed to duplicate a fragment of the stone. He stole the original, knowing the fake would only last an hour, so he knew he and everyone else would have to evacuate during that sliver of time. 

_ But was it necessary to lie to Alluka?  _ He asks himself.  _ Yes _ . He couldn’t risk others knowing— all it takes is one ill-hearted person and she’d be put in serious danger. 

His gaze, razor-sharp, meets another. A stranger with his hands in cloth pockets, leaning against the wall with a whimsical golden gaze. His red hair slicked back, skin pale as a northerner. It’s as if the crowd passing between them was insignificant, eye-contact boring right through. 

Shivering, Killua put his hands in his pockets and trudged back to the suite. 

  
  


Killua came back to the room to find Gon asleep, napping on a rug he seemed to bring everywhere. He looked small, innocent, his eyes closed and mouth slightly agape. His large hands squeezed into a gentle fist, which was tucked securely to his chest. The archmage skimmed his fingers down his arms, experimental touches they were— as light as a feather and careful to not wake the druid. 

_ He’s training.  _

Typically, when Gon naps on a blanket, he’s attempting to enter Mother Nature’s Dream. 

Suddenly, the druid grinned, eyes shooting open, “so you  _ do  _ watch me sleep!”

Killua instantly recoiled, tumbling on his cloak and landing by the sofa,- “I do not!” Traitorous heat circulated his cheeks, “and how long were you awake, anyway!”

Gon shrugged, sitting up and dusting his shorts off, “since you came in.” 

“So you were tricking me this whole time!” Where is that cliff when he needs it? Maybe he should open a portal to a freezing peak and throw Gon off of it. Yes, that sounds pleasing.

“Nope,” popping the ‘p.’ “I don’t enter deep sleep unless I encounter visions or enter the realm.” He wilts, “I don’t know why it’s so hard.”

Killua, far too agitated to be sympathetic, smacked him on the head.

“What was that for?!” 

The archmage rolled his eyes, “get ready, moron. We’re heading to the bar.” 

“Does Killua know of any within the area?” Gon asks.

“There’s a couple by the station. I’d rather wear more casual clothes to avoid unnecessary attention,” Killua says, stripping from his battle gear and pulling a woolen, long-sleeved shirt over his head. 

There’s a hesitation, “I don’t think clothes will change much. Killua always gets attention.” 

The mage rolls his eyes, “I’m not the one who sleeps with-“ he cuts himself off, eyes widening. He said too much. Killua had no personal claim on Gon. Why should he care who the druid sleeps with?  _ It’s not like they’re married _ . 

“Killua…” Gon’s hand rests on Killua’s shoulder, but the mage pushes it away. 

“Let’s just go,” Killua finalizes. 

  
  
  
  


They saunter down the busy streets. Carriages splashed undisturbed puddles that settled in the cracks of the uneven bricks while beggars called out, “spare a coin or two, fine misters?” To which Killua always declined, but Gon would drop some copper in their mangled leather hats. 

Live music blared from open doors, commonfolk dancing inside with beer in wooden mugs that fizzed over the top, and it was like every other time: the moment they entered, they split. For some reason, it bothers Killua greatly. Would another girl have their way with Gon tonight? He narrowed his eyes.  _ Or boy? _ Gon seemed to have a type. Each of them had light hair and eyes. He liked them cute and stupid. 

“ _ Idiot,”  _ the mage mumbles to himself, slamming his drink down on the counter. 

A human girl, the bartender, chocolate brown eyes, and fine hair entwined in a braid leaned close to Killua. “Anything I can get for you? You don’t seem quite drunk yet.”

The mage restrained from rolling his eyes, “I have immunity.”

She holds up a silver bottle, a skull encrusted in the cap. She shook it, and the liquid inside swayed, tantalizing. “Even this?” she spurs.

“ _ Tch _ , what is that, poison?”

“To most people,” she smirks, her voice laced in seduction, “but not the special ones.”

Killua’s ears perk to the sound of a girl laughing as Gon twirled her in the air. Her skirt poofed in the wind as the druid spun her around with a constant smile on his face. She was pretty, strawberry blonde hair flowing behind her and freckles dappling her cheeks, but what surprised Killua the most is that she’s a forest elf-- a survivor. Did they know each other? Grow up together, perhaps? The archmage bit his lip. He squeezed his knuckles until they turned white with strain. Jealousy. 

Killua was pissed.

He faced the bartender once more, “I’ll buy the bottle.”

  
  
  
  


Alcohol is wonderful-- possibly even better than chocolate. It’s like Killua’s born anew, free from all the weight upon his shoulders. Music and chatter thrummed his eardrums; it all felt so natural. 

Suddenly, he bumps into something… firm. Yes, firm.

“Killua.”

_ Gon? _

__ Why is he here? Shouldn’t he be gone with that girl?

Killua’s legs wobbled. He latched onto Gon’s tank top for stability.  _ Warm, warm; warm _ . Compact arms grabbed the mage’s sides. “Killua, what’s wrong?” he heard Gon say.

“No, go away,” Killua pushed himself from the druid, cursing at the stumble in his step. 

“Killua-” He attempted to grab Killua once more.

The ex-assassin slapped the arm away, “go do your own thing. You never seemed to have that problem before!”

Gon furrowed his brows, sending a stern glare to Killua. He spoke in concern, “Let’s get back to the hotel.”

He laughs to himself. Of course, the moment Killua begins to have some fun, Gon wants to leave. Is he worried Killua will go sleep with someone else? Selfish-- he didn’t stop Gon when  _ he _ left with some girl, no matter how much it hurt. The mage laughed behind gritted teeth, “Go  _ away _ .” 

Gon’s going to fuck around? Well, he can do the same. With one swift motion, the mage slipped his shirt over his head, exposing his built torso and backing into the crowd of dancing drunks. Two girls slipped up beside him, grinding their bodies with his as they whispered, “Your friend isn’t having much fun over there.”

Killua, fucked out of his mind, retorted, “He’ll have fun when he wants to.”

“Did something happen?”

The mage shook his head, “he’s just selfish, and I’m giving him a taste of his own medicine.” He grabbed the blonde girl’s hips with a smirk. Her slender fingers crawled up Killua’s chest. There’s a fleeting feeling of doubt that washes over him, but it disappears as fast as it arrived. It was nothing more than a game, but the way the girl stuck to him made it seem like they were planning to go home together. 

The band stopped for an intermission. Brown eyes with long eyelashes peered up at him, “Is something wrong?”

Gon’s hard stare caught his eye, intensity rolling off in waves from the dark corner of the bar. Killua’s response died in his throat.

There’s no doubt about it. Gon was pissed. 

“I should go,” Killua said quickly. He pushed his way through a crowd of bodies until he stood directly in front of Gon Freecss, and it was then he realized he had nothing to say, or perhaps, he had too much to say. Regardless, the encounter was wordless, both Killua and Gon staring into each other’s eyes and trying to read their own intentions. Killua figured out Gon’s pattern of thinking— quite easily, he might add— but feelings were different. 

Suddenly, the druid slammed his lips against Killua’s, smashing the mage’s back in the wall, and encasing him in bliss.

_ Feelings were much different. _

__ Gon, with his soft lips and warm breath caressing Killua’s face, moved his hands all over, fingers trailing down his spine, pressing on his lower back, then further— further to Killua’s upper thighs, gently urging them apart. 

“Hmph! Wait,” the former assassin turns his head away from the kiss, “we should go back to the room.” 

A husky voice whispered back, “do you think your legs will make it that far?”

Killua punched him in the gut, “better than yours will, moron.”

Okay, so  _ maybe _ Killua was wrong. 

__ Gon laughed hysterically as the mage wobbled down the sidewalks outside the bar. He bristled, rightly humiliated, “shut up! It’s not  _ that _ funny!”

That only made the druid laugh more.

Arcane magic ignited from Killua’s palm, “ _ Sedu…” _

__ Gon with a hesitant tone, questioned, “Killua, what are you-“ a projectile darting towards his face cut the druid off. He quickly dodged, the very tips of his hair frying to a crisp. Gon watches as the spell lands on the road with a horrifying  _ boom.  _

Citizens screamed and cleared the area. 

“Huh, where did that spell go?” Killua asks-- confusion overriding his,  _ overall fucked,  _ system. Natives stared at him in terror.  _ What did I do wrong? _

__ Promptly, strong arms held him up. Killua writhed, “I’m fine on my own.” 

Gon ignored him. He chuckled and picked up the mage, Killua’s arms and legs dangling as the druid carried him with delicacy, and Killua doesn’t have the mental capacity to restrain from tucking his face into the crook of his carrier’s neck. He lets his temple be cushioned by the silkiness of the druid’s hair, which still smelled of strawberry shampoo from a recent shower. 

He bit back a bit of sadness, no one ever touched him this lovingly, not in his childhood, and not from his mentors. Killua subconsciously pressed closer as if forcing this moment to imprint on his memory. The warmth, the heartbeat, the scent, it all lulled the mage into a thoughtless reverie. 

And it was like that the entire journey back, Killua listening to Gon’s heartbeat thrum against his ears and respond to the tiny whispers of small talk. 

“Killua’s breath is tickling me,” he had said, fondness present in his voice. 

The mage replied with a puff of air, giggling when Gon shivered and squirmed. 

They were now in the halls of the palace. Killua’s head nodded with exhaustion, eyelids urging to glue shut. All leftover light blurred together.

“We’re here,” Gon declares, clicking the door shut. He persistently nudges Killua, to which he doesn't respond. 

The former assassin jolts awake when he’s thrown on puffy bedsheets. His eyes shoot open while his limbs scramble from fright. “Gon, what the hell…” he trails off when his wandering gaze pinpoints Gon. A _very_ _topless_ Gon. _Oh._

__ The only light was a weak candle that struggled against any force acting upon it. Well, that and the glint in Gon’s eyes or the glimmer of sweat dripping down the indentures of toned muscle. 

Killua sits up with his back curved and places a flat palm on Gon’s heaving chest, feeling the erratic beat of his heart. Gon’s stare into the mage’s eyes never parted.  _ Never. _

__ Fire fire fire ignited Killua’s cheeks as he stared at lips chapped from the harsh, cold climate of the empire, and Gon stood as still as a statue when the mage lightly brushed lips on his chin, inching to his lips at an  _ agonizing _ pace. “Killua,” he whispers, brisk and cut-off by soft lips.

Slow, sensational;  _ under his control.  _ Killua liked it this way. He pressed his open mouth more into Gon’s, smashing his nose into the druid’s face;  _ shivering _ when feeling the other’s lashes flutter against his cheek. Tongues, wet and full of intent, joined together in a waltz. Killua slipped his palm down Gon’s chest, skin grazing his abdomen, and  _ feeling _ when Gon’s heavy breath hitched under the tips of his fingers. 

“Killua,” Gon repeats, and the mage’s ears ring at the sound. 

Then Killua, with a spike of confidence, grabs between Gon’s legs, grasping his waking member, yet he’ll always find himself surprised with how warm it is-- like the heat of a fireplace. “Why do you hesitate?” says the former assassin, words rolling off his tongue as if casting a spell.

Gon didn’t answer. Instead, he pushes himself against Killua’s lips, using his upper strength to urge the mage’s back on the quilts. When Killua is where Gon wants him: under him, he breaks the kiss and trails down to suck on Killua’s upper neck, placing a flat palm and  _ pushing _ on the other’s writhing figure. 

“Gon,” he gasps, “not there.” 

The druid doesn’t listen, continuously spotting the fair skin with love bite after love bite. 

“Gon, not where people will notice!”

The said one hums, deliberate and somewhat challenging, “I  _ want _ them to notice.” Desperate, rushed fingers entangled themselves in the waistband of the mage’s pants, fingertips hooking the fabric of his undergarments simultaneously. Heat rushed to Killua’s face as the druid yanked them down with a grunt. Strong, impatient hips rolled against Killua’s pelvis. The mage bits his trembling lips, and he cried out when Gon wrapped a large,  _ warm  _ hand around his cock, tugging it with intent. 

Killua, stretching out like a cat against the druid, mumbles, “you can go faster, you know.” 

Suddenly, all motion stopped as Gon looked at him with wide eyes and pink dusting his cheeks. Killua’s rarely seen Gon blush, but he loves the sight. 

The mage yelped when the druid flipped him over and grabbed his hips, urging him on his knees, and prying cheeks apart.  _ Oh, Killua’s never done this position before.  _

__ “Killua…” 

Gon, without warning, pushed into Killua. The mage yelped, eyes tearing at the sudden intrusion and hands gripping the sheets. “Gon,  _ ah-  _ warn me before you-!”

Amidst heavy breathing, “sorry, Killua,” not sounding sorry at all. 

Gon’s first thrust hit Killua’s prostate, and Killua’s mind turned to putty, limbs melting against the sheets as his mouth fell open in a moan.  _ And Gon aimed for it with every thrust _ , skin slapping; nails digging crescent moons into the mage’s flesh. 

Killua couldn’t help it because  _ fuck _ , he was desperate. His pleas dribbled from his mouth, but he’s far too preoccupied to feel embarrassed. Another thrust. An airy moan. The air was a stilled silence as if deliberately focusing on The chorus of grunts and whines along with sharp gasps for air. 

Gon slowed down for a brief moment, stilting himself above Killua and laying on the mage’s back, whispering with a smirk, hot air toasting the tips of Killua’s ears, “Killua likes it hard.”

Was he dirty talking? Killua felt his balls tighten. “S-shut up,” he insults rather weakly. 

Animalistic. That’s one fundamental trait that separates humans from elves. Sexual desire’s declined for the elven species because of the longevity deeming procreation useless. Children are rare, and for that reason, Killua had always envied the human race. There were always other children, and they were never alone. The elven species looked down on those who were half-bred with a human. Females favored the ‘animalistic’ side of humans that wasn’t present in male

elves.  _ But Gon was different,  _ and Killua immediately understood the appeal. He loved the sight of Gon losing himself, and Killua feeling that he is wanted, that  _ he _ is the cause of Gon’s pleasure; that he is finally doing something  _ for _ Gon.

_ Slap, slap, slap _ . Unintelligible words spilled from the druid’s mouth as often happened when close to climax. Killua squeezed his eye’s shut, “ _ fuck,  _ Gon!” Killua’s body spasmed as he came in white streaks that coated the bedsheets. 

He could’ve sworn he passed out for a fraction of a second, vision blacking and mind blanking, and it took a moment to reboot before he noticed Gon still slamming into him. He could  _ feel _ Gon tense his muscles against his lower back, biting his shoulder and drawing minuscules of metallic blood. Suddenly, the druid slammed in his full length, crying out as he rode out his orgasm. 

When the deed was done, Gon flopped on the bed-sheets, panting. Fingers lazily entwined; Killua’s chest warmed as he stared at Gon with half of his face smashed into a pillow, skin waking with over-stimulation as their knees would brush or maybe their feet. And they never spoke after sex. It’s better that way, Killua thinks. 

Like a cat, the mage curled against Gon, resting his head against the druid’s furnace of a chest. 

Gon broke the silence after a long moment, and he seemed hesitant, “Killua, please, only… only do this with me.” 

A whimsical grin graced Killua’s lips, “you’re so selfish.”

“Hmm, maybe.” 

They both laugh but only for a second. 

“I will,” says Killua. 

“Huh?” 

The mage rolls his eyes, “I won’t do it with anyone else as long as..,” he trails off, narrowing his gaze and furrowing his eyebrows, “as long as you want me by your side.” 

Gon hums an agreement, a promise, the sound vibrating Killua’s tiresome head. 

And so Killua let himself fall asleep, allowing all problems to wait until tomorrow because, for the next seven hours and twelve minutes, everything was okay. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, when I write smut, I never know if it's good or not because it just looks TERRIBLE when I write it. Anyway, this is more of a 'part one' because it's going to be Killua's POV in the next chapter as well, and the arc will be picking up the pace >:D
> 
> Thank you all for reading. (if u could comment and make me happy, I'll be...yeah, happy lmao) xD


	14. Obligation or Dependence?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Isn’t the thought of tomorrow being a new day ever so reassuring? Sometimes, I think I can only make so many mistakes until I’ve made them all, and then there’s nothing left but good.”

Killua foolishly figured the morning would be like any other. He writhed to find Gon’s sultry body amidst crinkled bed sheets and groaning in disappointment when he couldn’t immediately satisfy his yearning, so he squints open his eyes, blinking uncontrollably at the scorching light emitting from a neighboring window. He continues his search. Blink, blink, blink. No Gon. Instead, he’s welcomed with the bed made on the druid’s side of the bed. “Idiot,” he mumbles, though this time, it’s directed to himself. 

Killua jumped out of bed a moment too fast. A sharp pang shot through his head, causing him to wobble and grasp a nearby object for stability. He picks up a paper dangling from the nightstand he grabbed a hold of. ‘ _ Feverfew helps headaches, so I thought I’d get some for Killua at the palace garden.’ _

The mage rolls his eyes fondly, later deciding he feels gross. His mind instinctively recollects the cause. _Oh._ Blushing furiously, he thinks, _Gon came inside_ , _but why?_ _Gon’s never done that before..?_

He walks to the nearby bathroom, slipping off his only piece of thin clothing. He undid the silver clasp of the Zoldyck pendant his family gifted him, and the cloak slid off his shoulders and fell into a crinkled puddle on the pristine, tile flooring. The mirror, wide and covering an entire wall, reflected an image Killua either hated or adored depending on the circumstance. Sometimes, he could only focus on the blemishing scars mangling his once-normal skin, yet Killua doesn’t think he’ll ever remember it being ‘normal.’ As he traces them with the pads of his fingers, he’ll think of the tragedy following. The circular scar that resembled a blast on his lower abdomen: his assassination of Daika Kurta-- who put up a troublesome fight. The many scars on his arms: the electric room filled with numerous whips that lashed his skin whenever not performing optimally during an assassination mission. And lastly, the puncturing scar, two inches tall and around a foot wide, stained across his waist-- a permanent reminder of his last encounter with Chrollo Lucilfer. But then he’ll notice the bites dappled across his skin like freckles. The most noticeable ones were on his upper neck, a dark hickey right under his jawline and beneath his ear. Noticeable. 

‘ _ I want them to see _ ,’ he remembers Gon saying, steamy breath ghosting his neck before latching onto it with wet, chapped lips, sucking in earnest. 

Killua breaks out of his daze and turns the shower knobs. Hot water dribbled out, and the mage watched as the fog crept from the corners of the mirror and slowly blurs the reflection before him. He steps in, signing in relief as the pain in his head craves for the comfort of the warm water, and his eyes latch on the white ceiling above, letting the liquid trail from his Adam’s apple down to the rest of his body. There, Killua attempts to organize his thoughts, tasks, and feelings.

A particular thought, one he had never fabricated before, competed to the surface of his mind and consumed all attention. Killua’s eyes narrow, saddened. Would Gon be bothered that the mage will never be able to carry Gon’s children? Sure, it’s considerably difficult for an elven woman to conceive, but it’s not like Gon is the type to be against cross-breeding. And yes, Killua and Gon have very similar physical characteristics, but the archmage—as other northerners— have a smaller frame than forest elves, who seemed nothing less than a force of nature. 

The concept of having children never threatened to cross Killua’s mind before for the reason being: he’s not  _ normal.  _ Bringing a child into his life seemed… immoral. He raised Alluka in many ways, but the concept of complete free will was taken away at her birth— for being a Zoldyck, whereas most children come into this planet with an unblemished name. 

Killua wonders if Gon ever thought about the same thing. He doubts it, and that’s not the  _ only  _ thing he doubts. He also questions Gon’s goal, or if he really has one. It seems uncharacteristic of the druid to give up completely on his yearning for battle, and he  _ knows _ Gon enjoys the thrill of a life or death situation. But Killua keeps questioning,  _ why does Gon stay by my side? And how long will I be able to stay with him?  _ Even an eternity seemed too little. 

However, Killua realizes, every time Gon faces a moral dilemma that doesn’t directly regard the archmage, he leaves.  _ That _ is what Killua feared most. 

The lubricious bar of soap slipped from his grasp, sliding the shower floor and dissolving. Killua, blinking into the present, slapped himself on the face.  _ Concentrate, dammit! _

__ The mage sighs. He needs to go get Gon.

  
  
  
  


“Greetings, archmage,” says a passing noble. 

Killua returns a subtle nod. It’s second nature for him, at this point. He saunters the palace grounds, his arms folded behind his head, and a bored gaze focusing nowhere in particular. Within the palace walls was the Raven District-- a decent area of the Kakin Empire consisting of only the higher class, the nobles. The wall stood as a monument of suffering and mockery-- a fortification separating the undeserving snobs that did nothing to obtain their wealth and women and children starving because of the mere unfortunate matters in the world.

“Is that a Zoldyck?”

“The new archmage!”

“Filthy human lover.”

“Intimidating.”

_ Whispers, whispers, whispers.  _ As always, Killua simulated indifference as he walked by, people staring, gasping, and  _ whispering _ . He prickled with annoyance. It reminded him exactly of Heaven’s Arena; he remembers Alluka once saying, “Isn’t the thought of tomorrow being a new day ever so reassuring? Sometimes, I think I can only make so many mistakes until I’ve made them all, and then there’s nothing left but good.”

Perhaps, Killua thinks. But these passing thousands of years, he still made too many mistakes, and there’s no end.

Killua pushes the glass doors open with a fabricated gust of wind. The palace garden, where lilypads rested in the delicate water of sleeping ponds and butterflies flap and flap and flap. He hears a laugh, a laugh he knows all too well, a sound he will never tire of. Killua sees the back of the druid from a corner behind bushes and bushes of feverfew. “Hey, Gon,” the archmage waves casually. Gon smiles, “Oh, hi, Killua.”

Killua stares off into the distance. In deep thought, concerned.

“Alluka will be fine.” 

Startled, Killua looks into Gon’s eyes, “no… it’s not that.” He continues after seeing Gon’s head tilt, perplexed, “why would the Kakin empire be manufacturing demonic magic when it inhabits the most prestigious mage schools and sorcerers on the planet?”

Gon shrugs, “for something new, maybe? They already know all the weaknesses of mages.” 

The archmage interrupts, “which is the need to be close to an area with energy flowing through ley lines. It makes lengthy battles rough. Unless you consider the energy from the Nightwell, but fel needs that energy, too.” 

“Fel?” 

Killua nods, “that’s what the demonic magic is called.” He points at Gon, “I’m assuming you’ve seen it when sneaking into that laboratory. That was stupid, by the way.” 

Gon rolls his eyes, “Yeah, yeah,” he throws his arms in the air, “but we found out something useful!” 

“And frightening,” Killua mutters. That information can confirm many rumors, and neither of them was good. 

A bundle of feverfew, handled by Gon, appeared in Killua’s peripheral vision. Killua, with a tender smile, brushed one of the leaves with his fingertips, feeling its leafy texture soothe his waking anxiety.

“Is your headache better?” Gon asks.

The archmage stares at the druid, stepping close and searching through honey, golden eyes. Inhaling the scent of nature that mixed with the smell of sweat, he allowed himself to fall against Gon’s chest, resting his forehead on Gon’s shoulder. It was a test more than anything. Killua never initiates public affection, and he wondered if Gon would perhaps find the behavior shameful. 

A moment passes.

Gon inhales, “Killua, did something happen?”

But the druid didn’t push away, and relief floods through Killua’s body. He internally shakes his head.  _ Stupid, Gon never cared about those things, anyway. I worried for nothing.  _

__ “I was worried for nothing is all,” Killua finally responds.

“Ah, so nothing new, then.”

Killua playfully punches Gon in the gut. 

Someone clears their throat, immediately silencing the mage and the druid. “I hope I’m not intruding.” Kurapika stood in the clearing. A small smile decorated his face and his hands tucked in his suit’s pockets. His leather shoes were unscathed and shined, reminding Killua that Kurapika serves the Kakin Empire.  _ He’d have the latest intel.  _

“Not at all,” says Gon, and Killua nods. 

“Kurapika, Killua interjects, “how long does the king plan on letting us stay in the castle?”

The blonde shrugs, “many of the archmages live within the Raven’s district, but I come to discuss matters that may disturb that.”

The archmage quirks his eyebrows. 

“Many are concerned with your ties to the Alliance-“

“That was their risk when appointing me the title. I chose my faction, and that’s final.” Killua felt certain about only a few things in life, but this was one of them. 

Kurapika sighs, “yes, I’m aware, but I thought I’d let you know about the public concern. Let’s… speak in a more private area.” 

  
  
  


~*~ 

  
  
  


‘ _ You think they’re manufacturing demonic magic underground?’ Kurapika repeats incredulously. _

_ ‘Yeah, from what I heard from Gon and my sister, that seems to be the case.’ _

_ Kurapika bites his lip, deep in thought, ‘Gon, will you show us the location?’ _

So here they were. It was a silent, unanimous agreement to not speak when they entered the underground laboratory. Kurapika, Gon, and Killua walked side by side in the tight tunnel. Gon paced a little ahead since he knew the way. No voices were heard in the distance, and for some reason, that spiked Killua’s nerves. 

Suddenly, the tunnel dispersed to a large room. Everything inside was mangled,  _ destroyed _ . Metal scraps littered the floor, burnt marks lined the walls, and a rotten stench flooded Killua’s nostrils. 

Gon, utterly shocked, stutters, “everything- everything was right here!” 

Killua clenched his jaw, “did you  _ leave  _ the bodies out in the open, dumbass?!”

“Bodies?” Kurapika questions.

Gon, ignoring the blonde, exclaims, “what else were we supposed to do?!”

“Well, if they see two bodies in a secret laboratory,  _ obviously _ they’re going to assume they were spotted and would move their equipment and hide the evidence!” Killua kicked a nearby metal scrap, grumbling, “it looks like they blew it up.” 

“Was that eruption of energy from you?” Kurapika asks Gon.

The archmage answers for him, “my sister and Gon got into a bit of trouble during the meeting yesterday. I already gave them quite a lecture on the matter.” 

The conversation quelled once more, and they continued their search, despite the mere hopelessness of it all. Even the metal was unidentifiable, the extreme heat of the assumed explosion bending and tearing the scraps into peculiar shapes and sizes.

Instantaneously, Killua spots a faint trail of green ooze on the uneven brick floor. With small, careful steps, he follows. 

Killua kept his eyes focused on the ground. He steps on something damp and vaguely sticky; when he removes his foot, he finds blood— blood in a particular pattern he knew all too well: splattered like a human was rung out like cloth and splashed on the floor in a fleshy heap.

_ Nanika. _

_ She got out of control. _

The trail ends, and the archmage's welcomed with an ominous hole in the ground. The darkness faded and the sound of boiling liquid popped and echoed meters and meters down. “Both of you,” Killua says hesitantly, “come look at this.” 

Both boys rush to Killua’s side, pausing abruptly upon seeing the sight before them. 

A moment of silence passed before Kurapika spoke, “they’re corrupting the ley lines. This isn’t good.” A shaky breath, “I’m sure they have more hidden laboratories, such as this. If that’s the case, I wonder how many are corrupted like this one.”

Killua hums in agreement. 

Suddenly, a thought crosses his mind, and  _ everything  _ pieced together.  _ The Nightwell. That’s  _ why Chrollo is trying to find it. They need ley lines; if they could corrupt the Nightwell with fel, then the warlock could access it anywhere and everywhere, making it a power that’s practically impossible to deplete. 

Now frantic, Killua spoke briskly, “I’m heading to the black markets  _ tonight _ .” He turns to Kurapika, “I don’t completely trust you, but you seem to lean more on our side, so can you deliver the news to King Netero?”

The blonde nods. 

He glances over to see Gon wide-eyed and lips pressed together in a tight seal. “Gon?”

The druid doesn’t respond, and that’s when he does the unthinkable. Gon reaches down, cupping leftover fel in his hands, the liquid dripping between the crevices of his fingers and splotching on the druid’s leather boots.  _ Splotch, splotch, splotch.  _

“Gon… what are you doing?” Kurapika presses once more, shuffling his feet slowly into a defensive position. 

The druid only brought it closer to his face, opening his mouth. 

“Gon, stop!-“

Not even a moment later, Killua spun around and chopped Gon on the back of the neck as hard as he could, watching with his heart racing as the druid fell to the floor, unconscious. Killua bristled, stress pressuring his heart to beat faster faster faster, “what was wrong with him?!”

Kurapika, feeling around Gon’s forehead as if checking his temperature, whispers, “some are easily captivated by the dark persuasions of magic.” He looks Killua dead in the eye, “it might be best you complete this mission without his assistance.” 

_ Without Gon, huh? _ Gon will not like that in the slightest. 

Frowning, Killua helps lift Gon on his right side while Kurapika takes the left. The druid’s bobbing head flopped on the archmage’s shoulder. As they walk back to their assigned room of slumber, Killua stares down the halls into the darkness ahead. 

“No, I’m not doing this without Gon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel bad for releasing such a short chapter, especially after two weeks of not posting! I might encourage some of you to follow my Wattpad account, That_gReat_Snail, for updates on the status of my stories :3
> 
> Anyway, I feel like I forgot how to write? Lol. Felt like I had to get Killua's POV out of the way before really starting this arc. Huge thanks to all of my readers! <3


	15. Voices, Decisions, and Mistakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “But I want to believe you’re fit for it, so don’t make me regret my decision.” 
> 
> “You can trust me, Killua.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. I'll try and update more, but this is a pretty short chapter.

Visions, memories, voices, chatter chatter chatter, all speaking over one another. It’s suffocating. There was not enough room to breathe within his consciousness. 

_ ‘What did you do?! They’re dead… all of them!’ _

_ ‘Remember, Gon. We only learn to fight for means of defense.’ _

_ ‘Why did you stay for longer than our agreement? Why didn’t you just leave?’ _

_ ‘I’m sorry, Gon. Your aunt is dead. She died heroically defending The Nightwell.’ _

_ ‘Take it. The book!’ _

__ And out of nowhere, his mind blanked.

A picture fades into his mind, something that felt familiar and foreign, all at once. 

Home. Gon’s vision was blurred, and he could only see a brilliant light and a forest elf with a white silk gown and flowing turquoise hair that seemed to reach to her knees. But for some reason, he couldn’t turn his head nor his body. He was stuck facing a ceiling of trees— trees of pink, purple, green, and everything in between. Suddenly, involuntarily, he reaches for the sky with a chubby, short arm. His fingers, less than an inch long, stretched to grasp the air, his body wanting to hold the light beaming through the small, circular clearing of trees overhead. 

_ Could this be… when I was a baby? _

“Today is a momentous day. We are blessed by the goddesses with a child of Ging Freecss, who leaves this baby to our care.”

“His eyes! They’re golden!”

Other surprising voices arose.

“Yes,” says a priestess, “a sign of a prosperous future.” 

_ A prosperous future, they claimed. _

Gon’s mind blanks again.

Raging flames appeared, the sound of cracking wood, and drifting embers burning tiny holes into the forest floor. Battle, screams, the massacre. 

_ Please, not again.  _

But this time, he can see himself from another point of view. He sees his teenage body, tall with less bulk, staring at the horror before him. 

“This is no place for children,” yells an outraged human male.

“Move!” Gon tries to push the vision of his former self, but like a hologram, his hand went straight through. 

“What are you waiting for-'' the man’s interrupted as a hand impales him. Shark nails  _ yank _ a beating heart out of his chest,  _ squashing _ the thumping flesh.

His former self stood frozen with shock, but Gon, with hasty steps, wanted to see who the killer was. 

Blood lined up the killer’s pale skin, dripping dripping dripping down sharpened fingers that just pierced a heart moments before. White hair, around shoulder length, wisped at the tug of the breeze, and haunted blue eyes stared at the corpse. 

It was none other than Killua Zoldyck. 

“Stop!” Gon yelled to nothing in particular, “I don’t- I don’t want to know this!”

_ ‘Oh, really?’  _ Replies a taunting voice. 

__ But the vision— or,  _ memory—  _ continued. Gon now fixated his gaze on the younger version of himself, who sank to his knees in grief, devastation,  _ helplessness. _ It’s a brutal reminder of why Gon wanted to join the war-- because then he’d forgive himself for being useless that one day when it mattered, and maybe he could also forgive himself for failing to be the symbol of fortune for those who relied on him.

The druid’s jaw drops upon seeing a high elf unmask himself from the shadows and point a razored blade behind Gon’s wilted younger self. 

And suddenly, within the blink of an eye, Killua assassinates the high elf, saving Gon from a near-death experience he never knew he encountered. Killua seethes, curling his lips in distaste, “we agreed  _ not _ to  _ kill _ the innocents.” Once the body fell limp, the white-haired northern elf left without a glance nor hesitance. 

_ Killua- _

A croak is heard from the younger Gon, and the druid fixates his gaze on him. He remembers the feeling, the self-loathing of being weak, and he  _ hated _ it more than  _ anything _ . Something in him, a foreign thought of hate, told him his weakness has not changed.  _ How can you get stronger following Killua around, using his existence as some ticket to adventure? _

_ No, I mustn’t think. _

_ I’m tired of thinking. _

Gon jolts awake with a gasp, cold sweat drenching his forehead and dampening his neck hairline. Frantically, he eyes his surroundings.  _ Bed, ceiling, nightstand _ \-- the bedroom. Taking a wavering breath of relief, Gon tugs the crinkled blankets to the side and let his feet sink into the soothing carpeted floor. 

The round sun peeks through the window sill, preparing to say goodbye for the day. And Gon, with a sigh, sauntered to the living area. The room contained no light besides the lonesome lantern adjacent to Killua’s workstation. Books, so many books, sprawled out and stacked on the desk, leaving only a small opening for Killua to write with his feathered quill and ink. The mage sat in a wooden chair, perplexed. His fingers rubbed his temple and his foot tapped anxiously.  _ Tap, tap, tap.  _ His black cloak rested on his shoulders, highlighted from orange candlelight, and the silver pendent clasping it together shimmered for a mere second. 

The druid intently softened his steps to not disturb Killua, and finally, when close enough, he ducked down and pressed a loving kiss to the Archmage’s neck. He gave into his instinctual cravings and inhaled the sugary scent. 

Killua’s hum of content rumbled against Gon’s mouth. He leaned against the druid’s touch and sighed, a gentle smile gracing his lips, “I can’t seem to figure out what all of this means.” 

“The rumors?”

“Yeah.”

Gon rubbed his hands up and down Killua’s arms, “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” 

Killua tilts his head back, eyebrows slightly lifted upwards, amused, “you always say that.” 

“It’s because it’s true,” Gon states with no room for argument. 

A moment passed; it was far from suffocating. 

Signing, Killua stands from his chair and tucks it under the desk, “Kurapika decided he’s going to sit out going to the black market tonight.” With one swift motion, Killua throws his backpack over his shoulder, “so now it’s just me and you.” 

Standing a bit awkwardly, Gon asks, “the Alliance is allowing me to get involved?” 

The archmage’s stare hardens, but it doesn’t seem  _ quite _ focused on the druid, “...yeah.” 

  
  


  
  


“Please, can anyone spare some bread?” A homeless civilian begs all of those passing by. Frowning, Gon shuffles his pockets for some copper, but Killua firmly grabs the druid’s wrist, stopping him. Gon sends the mage a questioning look, and Killua looks away, dipping his head down guiltily, “we can’t save them all, Gon.” 

Biting the inside of his cheek, Gon relents. He tries his best to ignore all of those on the streets. 

_ ‘The Kakin Empire is notorious for being relentless. It’s a constitutional monarchy, so all decisions are made by the king,’  _ Killua explained to him awhile back, but it wasn’t just the twisted kings that ruled the empire. There are rulers of the underground as well who were possibly just as formidable. That’s what tonight’s mission was: to exploit what should’ve been exploited ages ago.

Gon’s hands shoot up to rub the stinging on the back of his neck, “ _ ah, _ did you have to hit so hard?” 

Killua, a few steps ahead, glances back and rolls his eyes “I’ve had to immobilize you for how many times now?” he begins counting on his fingers. 

“Geez, I get it,” an annoyed, pained smile stretches Gon’s mouth.

They fell into silence once more, but their surroundings were rather loud. The shallow puddles loitering the streets dampened their socks, and natives of all races pushed past them. Gon takes a large step forward to catch up to the mage. Now directly beside him, the druid questions, “what makes demonic magic so bad, anyway?” 

Killua stops abruptly, expression both incredulous and vexed. “It twists the mind to succumb to sociopathic rampages. No one should ever use it,” Killua finalizes. 

Silence. 

Killua takes another step forward. And another. 

Not wanting to quite end the discussion, Gon speaks up, “then how is the void any different?”

“It isn’t.”

“Then what about Nanika?”

Killua stops once more, taking a deep breath. “What  _ about _ Nanika?”

“She-“

“She’s no different!” Killua’s voice cracks, “you see how everyone treats her. You’ve  _ seen _ what she’s capable of!” 

All words die on Gon’s tongue. He finally realizes Killua was stating what the _world_ believes rather than his own feelings on the matter, and that’s when the druid comes to his senses— in the end, _that’s_ what plays any true significance.

Killua clears his throat, “even if we encounter a warlock who has compassion for others, we capture them, and if they fight back, we kill them.  _ That’s _ the mission.” 

“R-right.”

They stop in front of a dark alley. Killua, in front of the druid, speaks in a melancholy tone, never looking Gon in the eye, “if I’m being honest, I don’t believe you’re fit for this mission. The others said the same.”

Gon’s heart dropped, and he felt a random urge to place a hand on the mage’s shoulder so he could see what face he wore. “Killua,” his throat struggled out. 

“But I want to believe you’re fit for it,” Killua turns to Gon, a small smile gracing his lips and sharp eyes beaming with determination, faith. He puts a fist to Gon’s chest, “so don’t make me regret my decision.” 

“You can trust me, Killua.”

  
  


  
  


Finding the black market was easier than Gon imagined. It was much larger than he imagined, too. It was practically in plain sight— not that it looked much different from the town outside the walls. Rundown tents were overhead booths displaying dynamic gadgets and such, but the people there were far from innocent. Gon noticed two men side-by-side with razored swords reaching to their mangled black boots, an inky mask covering their face, and scars ripping down their arms. That much was evident. 

Killua paced a few steps ahead since it seemed he knew where he was going. 

“Stop staring,” the mage whispered as a warning, and Gon quickly peeled his gaze from the men and focused on the muddy ground. 

“Do you think they would sell fel in plain sight?”

“No,” replied Killua. “That's why I brought this.” He hands the druid a black cloak, much like the one he sees on the men around them. “We’ll search the area using these. One of these merchants has to know where a nearby laboratory is. I’m assuming it’s built above another ley line like the last one.” Killua's hard stare focuses on Gon. “It’ll be more efficient if we split up.” 

Gon let out an affirming hum, “don’t worry, I’ll be fine on my own.”

“You’re sure? Could you kill without hesitation if needed?” 

The vision of Killua instantly ripping out a man’s heart quickly flashes through Gon’s mind, but he buries it immediately. 

“I doubt that,” says Killua. His whimsical sapphire eyes glint for a passing moment, “I don’t think I could see nature-boy Gon Freecss hurting a fly.” 

_ You’re wrong. I- _

__ The memory, one he hasn’t thought of for centuries, threatens to rise to the surface, but it takes all of his conscious sanity to push it down where it belonged. Forgotten. 

Gon plays it off well. He rolls his eyes and throws the cloak over his shoulders, “nature-boy Gon Freecss may not hurt a fly but can easily hurt humans.”

“Psh, yeah, right.” The archmage begins walking in the opposite direction, waving, “see you later tonight!”

  
  


~*~

  
  


The stench is unbearable. 

Green liquid lined the walls, oozing from uneven bricks and fizzling and bubbling. It appeared identical to the laboratory beneath the castle, only this time, he’s alone. He began to wonder if Killua made the correct decision-- if  _ he _ made the correct decision. 

_ “If you find any traces of demonic magic, scoop it up in this vial, and return to our meeting place immediately.” _ Killua had told him. 

Gon reaches into his pocket to find the vial. Small, it was. It would barely hold an inch of liquid. He stared at the cauldron with burdening reluctance dwindling his confidence, his brows knitted together. He wouldn’t be tempted this time. He wouldn’t-

_ ‘You want to know why you can’t do it?’ _

__ The druid paused; he retracted his hand in an instant. The last time he lost control, he nearly ingested the magic. There’s no way he can do that without Killua around. Maybe he should turn back.  _ No, am I that weak?  _

Now it wasn’t only the whispers clouding his judgment, but there were doubts as well.

_ ‘Do you know why you have golden eyes?’ _

__ “I don’t care,” Gon revolted.

_ ‘Take it. The book! Take it!’ _

__ The druid crouched on his knees, covering his ears in desperate hope of silencing the inner voices. “Please, leave me alone! Why me? Why do you insist on tormenting me?!” He let out a broken whine. His entire brain was torn into two, and his sanity draining until soon there would be none left. 

“Do you wish to silence the voices?” Another voice. Behind him.

Gon jolted his head in its direction, eyes snagging an elf leaning against the brick walls, cloth pants smudged with fel and scarlet hair swooshed behind him. “Who are you?” The druid demands. “We don’t like unwelcome visitors.” Gon plays the part.

“Hm? But you’re the visitor.” He advances closer, “All of us are already insane.” He leans close to Gon. His breath smells of bubble gum, golden eyes revealing his fickle personality. He boops Gon on the nose, “but  _ you _ are in that wonderful maturing stage~”

The druid recoils, rightly disturbed. 

A sudden laugh erupts from the warlock before him, but Gon hastily interrupts him, “you said… you said you could silence the voices? How?”

“I can silence the voices, Gon, but in exchange for something I need.”

The druid lowers his lids into a glare, dark amber irises replacing honey. “How do you know my name?” It wasn’t a question. It was an order. 

The warlock turns and faces his back towards Gon, stripping his shirt, and revealing a twelve-legged spider tattooed in black ink with limbs crawling up his shoulder blades, a number four in the center. Gon’s mouth falls open, but all words die on his tongue when the man before him removes the tattoo from his skin as if it was nothing more than a mere sheet of paper.

“Hisoka Marrow is my name, and I’ll remove the voices if you give me the book that white-haired archmage wields. I can tell he’s quite fond of you, so I’m sure you know what I’m talking about, hm~?”

Hostile energy bursts from Gon’s figure and he shifts into a defensive stance, “Why would I give it to you?! It will never fall in the hands of Chrollo!”

“That energy,” Hisoka purred, licking his lips, “you’re that boy who was responsible for the massacre of the inhabitants within Meteor City? Now I’m remembering. What would Killua say if he knew?” 

Gon froze, eyes widening and his jaw setting, “W-what are you talking about?” His voice deepens, “I never did anything like that.”  _ Though, it seemed vaguely familiar. _

His only response was another sicking laugh.

“Why do you want the book?”

“Because if I obtain the book, the boss will fight me for it,” Hisoka’s eyes roll into his head, a blush darkening his cheeks, his lanky fingers twitching uncontrollably. The air is suddenly chilly, sinister aura thick as goo, suffocating as poison. Gon swallows a hard lump in his throat.

Hisoka snaps out of his trance as if it was no more than a mere daydream, fleeting and meaningless, “I’ll return the book to you soon after.”

Gon stares at the ground in question. What a loaded decision. Either lose Killua’s trust, temporarily side with the warlocks, find the Nightwell, and kill them all right then and there, or wait for another opportunity--  _ if  _ there’s another opportunity. 

“And… and you’ll rid the voices?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys probably noticed I went anon on this work, so it looks like my original account lost half my works heh- Anyway, there's a reason behind It that I won't reveal until later, but hopefully, that didn't mess up you guys getting notifications of a chapter update! This arc seems pretty slow, but it's mostly because I have plans for a HUGE climax-- which means lots of building towards that. *Ugh, hating myself for how boring it is lol.* 
> 
> Thx for reading! <3


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